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The Fall of the House of Flint. 


MRS. EMM 




AUTHOR OF “ ISHMAEL,” “ SELF-RAISED,” 


FAIR PLAY,” “ HOW HE WON HER,” 


“ THE LOST HEIRESS,” “ THE CHANGED BRIDES,” “ THE BRIDE’S FATE,” 
“ THE DESERTED WIFE,” “ RETRIBUTION,” “ FORTUNE SEEKER,” ETC. 


AND OTHER STORIES BY HER SISTER, 


MRS. FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

author nv “the RinnE’fl rkiih ft ” ftp. 


AUTHOR OF “THE BRIDE’S SECRET,” ETC- 


I saw two maids at the kirk , 

And both were /air and szueet; 

One in her wedding robe, 

And one in her winding sheet . 

The choristers sang the hymn. 

The sacred rites were read , 

And one for life to life, 

And one to death was wed . — Stoddard, 



PHILADELPHIA: 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 

306 CHESTNUT STREET. 


vz. 3 

.S 722T 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 
T. 13. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS. 

Each Work is complete in one large Duodecimo Volume, 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING ; or, The Fall of the House of Flint, 
j SELF- RAISED; or, FROM THE DEPTHS. Sequel to Ishmael. 
/ ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. ( Being Self-Made.) 

THE MOTHER-IN-LAW ; or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 
THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 
VICTOR'S TRIUMPH. A Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.” 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE . 
THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, Orville Deville. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRIT OMAR TE , the MAN HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. A Sequel to “Fair Play.” 
/THE CHANGED BRIDES: or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE ' S FA TE. Sequel to ‘ ‘ The Changed Brides. ' * 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow- Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. A Sequel to “Cruel as the Grave.” 
THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 
LADY OF THE ISLE; or, The Island Princess. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 
A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to “1 he Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE MAIDEN WID 0 W. Sequel to ‘ ‘ The Family Doom.' ' 
THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 
THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, the Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES; or, Shannondale. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, Eudora. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE. 
INDIA ; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER . 

VLVIA; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE WIDOW'S SON; or, Left Alone. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, Hie Children of The Isle. 
THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, Hickory Hall. 

THE BRIDAL EVE ; or, Rose Elmer. 

THE DESERTED WIFE. BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. HA UN TED HOMESTEAD. 

THE WIFE'S VICTORY. THE SPECTRE LOVER. 
THE FATAL SECRET. THE TWO SISTERS. 

THE ARTIST' S LOVE. LOVE'S LABOR WON. 
CURSE OF CLIFTON. RETRIBUTION. 

Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover. 


Above books are for sale by all Booksellers, or copies of any one or more 
of the above books , will be sent to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, 
or free of freight, on remitting price of the ones wanted, to the publishers , 
T. B. PETERSON Sp BROTHERS , Philadelphia, Pa. 




INSCRIBED 

TO 

MES. DBUSILLA HANCOCK, 


Of Washington City, 

WITH THE ESTEEM AND AFFECTION 


• OF THE AUTHORS. 


Prospect Cottage, 

Georgetown, D. C., 
February , 1878. 


00 NTENTS 


PAGE 

THE OLD FLINT PALACE — OUTSIDE TOE OLD FLINT 
PALACE — THE THREE FATES — A MYSTERIOUS 
WARNING — A STRANGE PICTURE — BRAYING THE 

WORST 25 

WONDROUS PHENOMENA IN THE OLD HOUSE— INSIDE 
THE OLD FLINT PALACE— THE SOLITARY WATCHER 
ON NEW YEAR’S EYE — THE WANDERING YOICE — 

“look! listen! remember !” — the phantom 

WEDDING— THE SPECTRAL BRIDES 42 

THE BRIDAL OF DEATH— THE OLD CRONE’S STORY — 
INSIDE — THE MYSTERY — THE BEAUTIFUL SISTERS 
— THE SUPPLANTED BRIDEGROOM — THE TRAGIC 
NUPTIALS — THE BRIDE OF DEATH — THE NEW 

HOME AND THE NEW LIFE 59 

HOW SHE WON THEIR LOYE 82 

UGLY NETTIE; OR, WHAT IS TO BECOME OF HER? 93 

BEN 109 

DID HE WIN THE RIGHT ONE? 122 

A HEARTLESS GIRL 130 

OFF WITH THE OLD LOYE 143 

LIFTING HIS BURDEN 150 

(23) 


24 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

A SEVERE LESSON 163 

ALMOST A CRIME 171 

WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE ? 178 

WHAT THE FUTURE MIGHT BRING 188 

TEMPTED 192 

A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION 200 

TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS 208 

THE BALL-ROOM BELLE 218 

A COSTLY JOKE - 226 

WHO STOLE HIS GOLD ? 235 

MARY’S GHOST 241 

ALL FIDO’S DOING 251 

WHO DID SHE MARRY? 259 

WAS SHE TRUE? 267 

MIRA— A CHRISTMAS STORY 275 

A TERRIBLE LESSON 285 

AN UNWELCOME TRIP 293 

A THANKSGIVING STORY 301 

BORROWED JEWELS 308 

JUDGED BY APPEARANCES 315 

POSITIVE PROOF 323 

EFFIE FAIRLEIGH’S REWARD 330 

THE COST OF A TRINKET 339 

LITTLE RAY 349 

A TRIAL OF PATIENCE 361 




THE PHANTOM WEDDING; 

OR, THE 

FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FLINT. 

% 

BY EMMA D. E. N . SOUTHWOETH, 


CHAPTER I. 

THE OLD FLINT PALACE. 

" O’er that house there hangs a solemn gloom ; 

The step falls timid, in each gorgeous room, 

Vast, sumptuous, dreary, as some Eastern pile, 

Where mutes keep watch, a home without a smile. 

Noiseless as silence reigned there like a law, 

And the cold luxury saddens into awe, 

Save when the swell of sombre festival 
Jars into joy the melancholy hall, 

As some chance wind, in mournful Autumn rings 
Discordant notes, although from music’s strings.” 

The New Timon. 

f ^ "IT^ORTUNATE ! — Why it is perfectly wonderful, 
Jl Adolphe! Wonderful that this fine place should 
have been standing vacant, waiting for us, as it would 
seem ! Since it is to let, one would suppose it would 
always be bespoken beforehand, and one tenant would be 
ready to rush in the moment the other came out ! Though 
indeed I think that if any one once had possession, they 
would never give it up until compelled ! And even then, 

( 25 ) 


26 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


some one would be ready to take it instantly ! Yet here it 
is actually to let ! ” 

“ The proof of the pudding is the eating of it, my dear 
Milly ! You never know what a house is until you live 
inside of it.” 

“ Oh, but look at this ! There can be no mistake about 
it ! ” 

“The rent may be exorbitant — out of the reach of 
most tenants.” 

“Luckily, that need not be an impediment to us, 
Adolphe.” 

“ But, Milly, the old place has an awfully gloomy and 
forbidding look to me ! ” 

“ 1 Gloomy and forbidding ! ’ Why, Adolphe ! It is noth- 
ing of the kind ! It is not new and flashy, I grant ! Nor 
would I like it to be so, if I had to live in it ! It is oldy 
aristocratic, picturesque, romantic ! All these are what I 
like in it ! And, Adolphe, we must take this house, if it is 
not already taken ! ” 

“ Well, my love, I will see to it.” 

This conversation took place between a newly-married 
pair, one fine autumn morning, as they paused before a 
magnificent old mansion, standing in its own grounds, 
that occupied a whole square in the very heart of the city 
of Washington. 

It was a massive dark stone building of irregular form, 
shaded with old forest trees, and surrounded by a high 
brick wall that bounded four streets. 

Within the wall were rows of tall Lombardy poplar- 
trees growing close together, and rearing their topmost 
branches so high as to exclude all view of the house and 
grounds from the streets on the four sides. Only by 
standing before the wrought-iron gate could a sight of the 
premises be gained. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


27 


It was from that point our newly-married pair observed 
it, having been attracted to the spot by the weather-stained 
placard, “ To Let,” nailed upon the right hand gate-pillar. 

A closer examination of this sign instructed the inquirer 
to apply to George Kent, Real Estate Agent, under the 
Indian Queen Hotel. 

“ That is easily found ! Why, he hangs out immediately 
under our own roost ! ” said the young man, laughing, as 
they turned away from the gate of the old house, re-entered 
their carriage, which stood waiting, and drove back to their 
hotel. 

Now a word about this young couple. 

Adolphe Rogers Ruthven was a young Englishman of 
good family, notwithstanding his slight addiction to slang. 
He was then the Secretary of Legation to the British 
Embassy at Washington. He had come over with the 
new British minister, about twelve months before. 

He was the type of the handsome young Saxon — tall, 
broad-shouldered, deep-chested, and straight-limbed, with 
regular features, sanguine complexion, blue eyes and a full 
suit of light auburn hair and beard. 

During the preceding summer, while spending a few 
weeks at Saratoga, he had met, wooed and won a fabu- 
lously wealthy Southern heiress, a lovely Creole, whose 
rich brunette beauty fascinated the eyes and enchained 
the heart of Rogers Ruthven, even before he discovered 
what a financial prize she was in the matrimonial lottery. 

She was an orphan, who had just attained her majority 
and entered upon her estate, and was then staying at 
Saratoga under the chaperonage of an elderly lady- 
friend. 

She had no one to consult but herself ; so she yielded 
to the prayers of her lover, and consented to become his 
wife. 


28 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


The marriage was celebrated with great ecldt at Saratoga, 
near the close of the season. 

The newly-married pair then went on a wedding tour 
for about five weeks, at the end of which the Secretary of 
Legation returned to his official duties at Washington, 
bringing his bride with him. 

They spent a few quiet days at their apartments in the 
Indian Queen Hotel, which was at that time the best in 
the city. 

On this morning, they had started out, with a list of 
advertisements in hand, to hunt up a suitable dwell- 
ing, for it was their wish to purchase or lease a hand- 
some house in the city, and make it their permanent 
residence. 

They had spent the whole morning in driving around 
the city upon their quest. They had visited every locality 
laid down in their list, but without finding anything to 
suit them. 

They were returning weary and disappointed, when they 
happened to pass by the Old Flint Mansion and notice the 
placard u to let ” on its gate-post. 

They had got down to examine it, but found the gate 
locked and chained, and the place without a sign of life 
about it ! 

The old, picturesque, romantic aspect of the house 
attracted the fancy of the gay young bride, as we have 
seen, and inclined her to engage it. 

After their return to their hotel, the young bridegroom 
lost no time in going to the real estate agent to inquire the 
terms of lease. 

After his visit to Mr. Kent, he came back to his wife, 
with such intelligence as he had gained concerning the 
house. 

“ I thought my application took the broker a little by 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


29 


surprise, I really did; though of course he would not 
willingly have betrayed such an emotion,” said Mr. 
Ruthven, throwing himself into an arm-chair in his wife’s 
chamber. 

“Did you tell him that we came upon it quite by 
accident ? ” she inquired. 

“ I did. And I also expressed some surprise that it was 
not advertised in any of the newspapers — a fine old place 
like that ! ” 

“And what did he say ? ” 

“ Not a word on that subject ! Indeed, he was quite the 
reverse of our notorious Robbins. Instead of vaunting 
the premises he had to dispose of, he said nothing at all 
about them, except in answer to direct questions; and 
then as little as possible.” 

“ How very odd ! ” 

“ It may be his taciturn nature.” 

“Well, in answer to your direct questions, what did he 
say ? ” 

“Why, that the house was known as the Old Flint 
Palace. That it had once been the property and home of 
Peter Flint, a banker of enormous wealth, but had passed 
into other hands. The present owner, a Mr. John Elphin- 
stone, was now travelling in Europe. The house was in 
perfect repair, and completely furnished ‘from roof-tree 
to foundation-stone,’ and to be let, leased, or sold on easy 
terms.” 

“Then we will lease it! When can we see it?” she 
asked. 

“At any time by applying on the premises to three old 
ladies, who occupy the building that opens upon the back 
street, in the rear of the mansion.” 

“ Then we will go and see it to-morrow. It is too late 
to-day.” 


30 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


“And we will not engage it until we have been through 
it and see how we like it,” said Mr. Ruthven, with a smile. 

“Oh, yes, we will! We will engage it any howl” ex- 
claimed the self-willed beauty. 

That same evening, as the young couple were sitting in 
the drawing-room of the hotel, a gentleman of the name 
of Wall, a fellow-boarder with whom Ruthven had some 
acquaintance, inquired gayly whether they had succeeded 
in their quest for a house. 

“ We have not and we have” answered Ruthven. 

“ Query — Is that a conundrum ? ” 

“ Why, no, it is the fact ! None of the houses we looked 
at from the advertisement suited us at all. But in coming 
home, we passed a fine old family mansion, that took Mrs. 
Ruthven’s fancy, and upon examination we found it was 
to let. Perhaps you know the place ? ” 

“ Perhaps. Where is it ? ” 

“ In the northern part of the city. It is called The Old 
Flint Palace.” 

“ The Old Flint Palace ! ” 

“ Why, yes ! What is the matter with you, that you 
look so astonished ? ” inquired Ruthven, uneasily. 

“ Do you mean to say that you have really taken The 
Old Flint Palace?” exclaimed his friend, ignoring the 
young man’s question. 

“ No, we have not yet taken it — ” began Ruthven. 

“ But we are going to take it certainly ! Let there be 
no mistake about that, Adolphe ! ” said Milly, positively. 

“There is no mistake about your resolution, at all 
events ! ” said the young husband, with a smile. 

“And you are really going into the Old Flint Mansion ! ” 
reiterated their friend, in a wondering manner. 

“We really are, Mr. Wall ! Now what have you got to 
say against it? ” inquired Mrs. Ruthven. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 31 

“ Nothing, since your resolution is formed.” 

“ Oh ! but I wish to hear your objections all the same ! ” 

“/ have no objections ! I have not got to live in it ! ” 
exclaimed Wall, lifting his eyebrows. 

“ Well, but — What makes you so mysterious? What is 
the matter with the house? ” persisted Mrs. Ruthven. 

“ There is nothing the matter with the house that I 
know of.” 

“Oh, come now, Wall! There is something on your 
mind at all events, and you had as well tell this little lady 
first as last ; for when a woman’s curiosity is excited, she 
will have no rest, nor let any one else have any, until it is 
satisfied,” said Mr. Ruthven, with a laugh, while Mrs. Ruth- 
ven corroborated his words by fixing her great soft brown 
eyes with devouring interest on the homely visage of Mr. 
Wall. 

“I know nothing of myself against it, but I think 
if you had not been strangers in the city you never would 
have thought of leasing it, and the broker must have been 
considerably astonished by receiving an application for 
that house ! ” 

“ He certainly was ; for, though he did not say so, he 
looked so. I mentioned it to my wife as soon as I got 
back,” candidly admitted the secretary. 

“ Of course ! Why, the place has not even been adver- 
tised to let for these ten years past. That old placard on 
the gate-post has no doubt been left there and forgotten.” 

“ Probably ; for it was very old and much discolored ; 
but all this indicates that something does ail the house, 
although you mystify us on the subject,” insisted Mr. 
Ruthven. 

“ I assure you I know nothing personally of the matter; 
except that no one has lived there in the last twenty 
years. Before that time a succession of tenants moved in 


32 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING* 


and moved out. It seems that no one could live in the 
place, through the month of January. Even if a tenant 
took it in the middle of the year, he was sure to move out 
before the month of January ended, and so sacrifice the 
half year’s rent. The last tenant who — ” 

“ Oh ! I know what is the matter ! ” broke in Milly 
Ruthven, “ the house is haunted ! That is delightful ! 
I am not the least afraid of ghosts. I love the awful and 
mysterious ! I dote on a haunted house ! Even when I 
was a child I revelled in the ‘ Mysteries of Udolpho,’ and 
was very much disgusted when the supernatural horrors 
were all explained away by petty natural causes ! We will 
take the old house all the sooner for its being haunted.” 

“ But I never heard that it was haunted ! I was about 
to say that the last tenant who occupied the old Flint 
Mansion happened to take it on the first of February. 
He leased it for five years. His family remained there 
just eleven months and a day, and then moved out in a 
desperate hurry and actually sacrificed the lease money, 
for they had to pay the rent for the remaining four years, 
although they did not occupy the house, nor sub-let it. 
This was another proof that no one could live there 
through the month of January.” 

“ Did this 1 last rose of summer ’ say why he faded out ? 
Did this tenant say why he left?” inquired Mr. Ruthven. 

“No! the whole family positively refused to give any 
explanation of their strange proceeding. And in this they 
resembled their predecessors in the house. Not one of 
them could ever be induced to give a reason for their 
flight ! And that is the strangest feature in the strange 
history.” 

“ Ah, the house is haunted ! There can be no sort of 
doubt about it ! And the tenants did not like to confess 
it ! That is the secret ! You must consider that a mag- 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


33 


nificent old place like that could only be taken by people 
of good social standing. Now such people would shrink 
from exposing themselves to ridicule by confessing that 
they were ejected by ghosts !” said Milly Ruthven, as- 
tutely. 

“Your theory seems plausible, my dear lady, but I can- 
not vouch for its truth.” 

“The house is still kept up,” said Mr. Ruthven. “The 
agent told me that it was in perfect repair and completely 
furnished. In fact quite ready for occupancy.” 

“ Oh, yes, I dare say ! It has always been in charge, 
when vacant, of three fossil old maiden ladies — the Misses 
Stone — who occupy a comfortable cottage in the rear of 
the grounds, and receive a small monthly stipend for ta- 
king care of it, and keeping the moth, rust and mildew 
down by frequent cleaning, airing and warming.” 

“ But is there — ” 

“ And we call them The Fatal Sisters, The Three Furies, 
and such sweet pet names. But they are seldom or never 
seen,” continued Mr. Wall, not hearing the commenced 
interruption of the young secretary. 

“I was about to ask you,” resumed the latter, “if there 
was no event connected with the former history of the 
house, that might have predisposed people’s minds against 
it?” 

“ Umme. Yes. But it is scarcely a subject to be discussed 
here. About thirty years ago that place was cursed by a 
domestic tragedy that ended in the downfall of the great 
House of Flint. It happened in January, 18 — . Hence I 
suppose the superstition that no one can live there through 
that month.” 

“We shall try to disprove that at any rate, Adolphe! 
Let us see ! This is the last week in October. Then comes 
November, December and January! In less than three 


34 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


months we shall test this matter, shall we not, Adolphe ? ” 
inquired Mrs. Ruthven. 

“ Yes, my dear, if you please. Should the inside of the 
house answer to the outside, and suit us in all other 
respects, we will scarcely decline it on account of a super- 
stition.” 

“And no one will be more anxious to hear the result of 
your experiment than myself,” said Wall. 

“ Except of course the real estate agent, who may be 
supposed to have some interest in it,” added Mr. Ruthven. 

“ But what is this domestic tragedy, that ended in the 
destruction of the House of Flint?” inquired Mrs. 
Ruthven. 

“Pardon me, my dear lady ; but it is a subject that can- 
not be pursued in your presence,” said Mr. Wall, with a 
deprecating bow. 

Milly Ruthven colored with the consciousness that she 
had been asking an indiscreet question. 

And then as the gong suddenly thundered through the 
house, Mr. Ruthven arose and gave his arm to his wife to 
take her down to dinner. 

Early the next morning the young pair took a carriage 
and drove out to the northern part of the city, and to the 
Old Flint Palace, which they approached by the back en- 
trance, through a substantial red brick cottage, built about 
midway in the high brick wall in the rear of the grounds, 
and facing the back street. 

Here after repeated raps on an old iron knocker, the 
door was opened to them by a weird woman, of about sev- 
enty years of age — tall, raw-boned, hard-featured, sallow 
complexioned, and clothed in a long, narrow, black serge 
gown, and a high, white muslin cap, with broad, deep 
borders, that fell around her shrivelled face like the fading 
petals of a flower around its centre. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


35 


n Well? ” this old creature demanded in a harsh tone. 

“We have come to see the house, if you please,” said 
Ruthven, in a pleasant voice. 

“ What do you want to see it for ? ” was the next polite 
question. 

“We think of renting it.” 

“ Renting it ! ” she screamed. 

“Yes. It is to let, is it not? ” 

“ Renting Flint House ? ” 

“Yes, I say. We have seen the agent. He referred us 
to you. Will—” 

“ The Lord have mercy upon us ! — Aggy ! Sukey ! 
come here ! ” cried the old woman, heedless of the visitor’s 
last words, and turning in-doors to summon two other 
people, who almost immediately joined her at the door. 

And there they stood, facing our young couple — The 
Fatal Sisters, The Three Furies — that guarded the gates of 
this hell ! 

They were counterparts of each other, so exactly alike 
in form, features, and dress, that it would have taken a 
very acute observer to learn to tell them apart. 

“ What’s the matter, Peggy ? ” demanded the new-comers 
in a breath. 

“ Here’s two lunatics come to look at the house.” 

“Well, let ’em ! We haven’t any power to prevent ’em ! 
Let ’em look at it ! Serve ’em right ! Let ’em take it, if 
they want it ! They’ll be sick enough of their bargain 
’fore the winter’s over ! ” exclaimed Miss Aggy. 

“Aye, aye ! He ! he ! he ! ” chuckled Miss Sukey. 

“ Then perhaps you will be kind enough to let us come 
in,” said the young secretary, in a good-humored tor^e, 
though he was sorely tried by this very ungracious recep- 
tion. 

“Aye, aye ! Come in ! come in ! We have no power to 
2 


36 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


keep you out, since old Kent sent you. But, young man, 
your worst enemy could not do you a worse turn than to 
grant your request,” said Miss Peggy, giving way to let 
them pass in. 

“ Now if you will hand me the keys I will not trouble 
you to show us through the house. No doubt we can find 
our own way,” said Mr. Ruthven, still good-humoredly, 
while Mrs. Ruthven looked around with curious interest 
upon the murky room into which they had immediately 
stepped — a room whose two windows were curtained by 
faded purple damask that excluded nearly all the daylight. 
The floor was covered by a dark, much-worn Brussels 
carpet ; it was furnished with black walnut tables, chairs 
and sofas upholstered in horse-hair, and it was heated by 
a large rusty iron stove. 

Miss Peggy reached down a large bunch of keys from 
their peg beside the mantel-piece, and gave them to Mr. 
Ruthven, saying : 

“ Go out through the next room and the other door, and 
you will see a walk that will lead you directly to the 
house.” 

At the same time Miss Sukey opened the communicating 
door and held it back for the two young people to pass. 

They went through the adjoining room and out into a 
straight walk between two rows of cedar trees that led up 
to the back portico of the old house. 

The walk, as well as all the ground, was covered thickly 
with fallen leaves from the many old forest trees that stood 
within the high-walled enclosure. 

“ Let us go around to the front of the house and enter 
by that way,” said Milly Ruthven, stepping a little in 
advance of her husband and playfully brushing the drifts 
of autumn leaves before her with her feet. 

The massive old gray building stood in the very centre 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


37 


of the enclosed square, shut out from the rest of the world 
by four high brick walls and four rows of tall Lombardy 
poplar trees. 

The young couple had approached it by a walk between 
trees and leading straight from the rear wall to the back 
door of the house. Now, on going around to the front, 
they saw that a similar straight walk between dark cedar 
trees led from the front door out to the front gate, that 
opened upon one of the finest avenues of the city. 

This face of the house was rather gloomy to look upon, 
being of darker gray than the rest of the building, and 
having nine tall, dark windows, enclosed with black oak 
shutters — five in a row on the upper story and four on the 
lower, two being on each side of the entrance door. 

A half dozen stone steps, between wrought-iron railings, 
that rolled off in a scroll to the right and left, led up to a 
massive double black oak door, adorned with a huge 
wrought-iron knocker. 

“ I’ll tell you why I think this house does not let,” said 
Milly as they went up these steps. 

“ Why, then ? ” inquired Ruthven, who was selecting a 
key from the bunch in his hands. 

“ Because those three old women who are on guard here 
discourage people from taking it. Why see how they tried 
to frighten us away,” she added. 

“ Very likely,” replied Ruthven, indifferently, for he was 
trying one key after another in the rusty lock, and was 
more interested in opening the door than in anything else 
just at that moment. 

“ You may depend that their interests are involved in 
keeping the house vacant,” continued Milly. 

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think the old creatures 
had any interested ulterior motive. I thought that in 
warning us off so solemnly they were terribly in earnest 


38 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


and also a little insane. They are very aged,” said Ruth- 
ven, who had at length found a key to fit the lock and was 
using all his strength to turn it in its rusty socket. 

“ Then they are in their dotage, I suppose,” said Hilly. 

“ Certainly. And — there you are ! ” exclaimed Ruthven, 
who had turned the key with a harsh, grating sound, and 
thrown the double doors wide open. 

They entered a spacious hall, large enough to take in an 
ordinary four-story brown front house. 

“Oh! how grand and beautiful this is!” exclaimed 
Hilly, looking around in surprise and admiration upon 
the rich inlaid floor, the frescoed walls, the rare statues, 
and the elegant, airy, well-staircase, open from the floor to 
the cupola on the roof. 

Solid rosewood double doors opened to the right and 
left into suites of rooms, furnished with unparalleled 
splendor. 

They first entered the doors upon their right, that led 
them into a handsomely fitted library, and through that 
into a music room, and thence into a picture gallery, where 
rare works of art could be but dimly seen in the dusky 
light. 

On the left of the grand hall were the reception-rooms, 
drawing-rooms, and dining-room. 

Back of all was a conservatory of rare flowers, still well 
cared for. 

Having examined the lower floor, they ascended the 
beautiful stairs to a gallery above, with rosewood doors 
opening into private suites of apartments, consisting of 
bed-rooms, boudoirs, and sitting-rooms. 

Time would fail to tell of all the hidden splendors of 
that old gray house. 

But one thing must be noticed. 

After coming down-stairs Ruthven proposed that they 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 39 

should re-enter the picture gallery and throw open the 
windows to admit the light, so as to see if there were 
really any pictures there worth looking at. 

“For you see, Milly, every wealthy picture collector is 
not a connoisseur in art,” he said, as he unfastened and 
threw open the massive folding window-shutters and let 
in a sudden flood of sunshine. 

An exclamation from his young wife followed. 

“ What is it, Milly ? ” he inquired, turning around. 

“ Oh, look there ! ” she cried, pointing to the wall oppo- 
site the open window. 

There, in the full blaze of sunlight, shone a glorious 
painting, reaching from floor to ceiling. It represented 
two young girls of the darkest brunette type of beauty, 
with rich brown complexions, warming into crimson upon 
rounded cheek, and full, ripe lips, large, dark, melting 
eyes, low, dark eyebrows, and rippling, jet-black hair. 
They were scarcely past childhood, yet all the passion 
of the Andalusian woman seemed burning in the great, 
sleepy, dark eyes, and glowing on the full, luscious lips. 

They were so much alike that the dullest beholder could 
see at once that they were not only sisters, but twin sisters. 
They were both dressed in bridal array, with long, white 
satin robes, and long white lace veils, confined under 
wreaths of orange flowers. They stood together, twined in 
a half embrace, and “ smiling as in delighted visions.” 1 

“ How exquisitely beautiful ! I wonder if they are por- 
traits? ” said Milly, gazing with rapture upon that “thing 
of beauty,” as if indeed it was to be “ a joy forever.” 

“I suppose it is a fancy piece,” said Euthven, also 
gazing with admiration on the picture. 

“ Stay ; here is an old card in the corner of the frame.” 

“ The artist’s name, perhaps.” 

“ No ! These are portraits ! ” exclaimed Milly, extract- 


40 THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 

ing the card from the comer into which its edges had been 
wedged, and trying to decipher the faded writing. “ Lis- 
ten! 1 Theodora and Dorothea , twin daughters and only 
children of Peter Flint, Esq. 5 ” 

“Ah, then they are portraits. And in bridal dresses! 
No doubt these twin sisters were married at the same 
time. But see here, come to think of it, Kent told me 
that old Flint had died without direct heirs, and thus the 
property had passed out of the family. I do wonder what 
became of these beautiful brides, and how it was that they 
did not survive their father,” said Ruthven, musingly. 

“And I wonder what was the nature of that domestic 
tragedy which ended in the downfall of the House of 
Flint,” added Milly. 

“ But, more than all, I wonder how this magnificent 
house, with its splendid furniture, its rare works of art, and 
its spacious grounds, right in the heart of the city, should 
be offered for sale or lease at such a low price, and should 
go a-begging for that.” 

“ It is haunted , Ruthven ! As sure as fate it is haunted. 
And most people object to haunted houses. You and I do 
not ; because, in the first place, we don’t believe in ghosts, 
and, in the second, we should not fear them if we did ! 
We will take this house, Ruthven.” 

“ Of course we will, Milly ! Such a substantial good is 
not to be neglected on account of any consideration so 
unsubstantial as a ghost,” replied Ruthven, laughing. 

“And oh, if any spirits haunt the house, I hope they 
may be those of the two beautiful sisters ! In the flesh or 
in the spirit they would adorn any place,” said Milly, 
with a smile. 

They now prepared to leave the premises. 

After reclosing every pair of window shutters they had 
opened, and relocking every door they passed through, 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


41 


they left the house by the way they had entered it, passed 
down the rear walk and returned to the cottage on the 
back wall to restore the keys to “ The Three Furies.” 

“ Do you know whose portraits those are ? — the young 
girls dressed as brides, I mean,” said Milly, in a coaxing 
voice, to Miss Peggy. 

“ The late master’s daughters,” shortly replied the crone, 
as if grudging her words. 

“ Will you tell me, please, what became of them? ” ven- 
tured Milly, with a wheedling smile. 

The hag fixed her bead-like black eyes fiercely upon 
the questioner and demanded : 

“ What is that to you, young woman ? Can’t you mind 
your own business? Maybe you mightn’t like to hear! 
Eh, eh ! But you are going to live in the house, and 
you’ll be likely to find out. Aye, aye ! He, he ! And to 
wish you hadn’t ! He, he ! ” chuckled the witch. 

“ Come, Milly ! ” exclaimed Ruthven, taking his wife’s 
arm and leading her out to the carriage. “ Those dread- 
ful old hags are possessed of the devil ! Let us go.” 

They returned to their hotel in good time to dress for 
dinner. 


42 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


CHAPTER II. 

WONDROUS PHENOMENA IN THE OLD HOUSE. 

I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
That shapes this wondrous apparition : 

It comes upon me ! 

Whither are they vanished ? 

Into the air ? And what seemed corporal 
Melted as breath upon the wind ? — Shakespeare, 

S ATISFACTORY terms were concluded between the 
secretary and the agent, and upon the first of Novem- 
ber our young couple entered into possession of the old 
house. 

Mrs. Ruthven took with her the two colored servants 
who had been her constant attendants from her childhood 
up — Venus, a woman forty years of age, who had been 
her nurse from earliest infancy, and Venus’s daughter, 
Hebe, first her foster sister, and afterwards her little 
maid. 

But they were scarcely known by their baptismal names 
of Venus and Hebe; they were called by everybody else, 
as they were called by their young mistress, “ Mammy ” 
and “ Sissy.” 

Mammy and Sissy had both been at Saratoga in at- 
tendance upon the youthful heiress at the time of her 
courtship by the young English gentleman. They had 
helped to dress her for her bridal ; they had attended her 
in the wedding tour. They were with her at the Indian 
Queen Hotel, and they accompanied her to the new home 
in the Old Flint Palace. 

These two women were quite competent to take the 
whole charge of the housekeeping for the young couple, 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 43 

until an establishment of servants, befitting their wealth 
and social position, could be organized. 

And in addition to their efforts, Mr. Ruthven’s valet and 
groom made themselves useful. 

Well kept as the fine old house had been, ready as it 
was for occupancy when the new tenants went into it, there 
was still much to be done before they could become set- 
tled — fresh toilet, bed and table linen to be bought ; silver 
and gold plate, both for daily service and special occasions, 
selected; a carriage and horses to be set up ; and, as before 
mentioned, extra servants to be engaged. 

But, happily, the Ruthvens had at least two good months 
before society would assert its irresistible claims upon 
them. It was now the first of November, and the fash- 
ionable season would not commence until the first of Jan- 
uary. 

Milly Ruthven was glad of this interval of rest. She 
was tired of a whole year’s social dissipation, tired of the 
gay winter in New Orleans; the gay summer at Saratoga; 
and the long autumn wedding tour that had just ended in 
Washington. And besides she was not well ; there might 
be a natural and hopeful cause for this ; but it inclined her 
to avoid excitement and seek repose. So she welcomed 
the two quiet months in which she could commune with 
her own spirit and be still. 

“ I want no calls, and therefore I shall leave no cards 
for the present,” said the young wife. 

And her husband acquiesced in her wishes. 

The Weird Sisters were left in undisturbed possession 
of the old brick cottage, in the rear of the grounds, front- 
ing on the back street. 

As the young couple had leased the whole property, 
they had the power to eject “ The Furies,” but they did not 
really need the building, so in the kindness of their hearts, 


44 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


they permitted the old creatures to stay where they had 
lived so long. 

And from the time they were told that they might still 
keep possession of their humble quarters, they had shown 
much satisfaction, and would have proved their gratitude 
by practical services, if the Kuthvens would have per- 
mitted them to do so. 

Milly was indeed surprised to find how very muscular 
and strong these old women really were. 

They had had the whole charge of keeping the mansion 
house in complete order, while it was vacant, and they had 
never had any help except on the occasions of the annual 
spring cleanings, that had gone on as regularly every May, 
as if the house had been tenanted. They had also had 
charge of the conservatory and the grounds, and had kept 
them in perfect order with only occasional help during the 
summer. 

“In common justice — to say nothing of humanity — in 
common justice, they ought not to be turned adrift. And 
I have no doubt, it was the fear of losing their home and 
the thought of the wrong that would be done them, which 
caused these old people to discourage the letting of the 
mansion house,” said Milly. 

“Not very faithful of them, however,” replied her hus- 
band, with a light laugh. 

“I don’t know, it is hard to judge for others,” added the 
young wife. 

By the first of December the new establishment, both 
as to house and stable, was perfectly organized. 

A full staff of well-trained servants were engaged, leav- 
ing “ Mammy ” and “ Sissy ” to their personal attendance 
on their beloved young mistress. 

Two elegant carriages — an open barouche and a close 
brougham — a pair of fine silver-gray coach horses, and 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 45 

two saddle horses, were purchased, and coachman and 
groom hired to take care of them. 

A silver and gold dinner and tea-service, that might/ 
have graced a royal board, were sent home. 

Every other comfort, convenience and luxury were 
provided in proportion. 

Everything was in order. 

Nor up to this time had any disturbance occurred to 
mar the perfect harmony of the household. No mysteri- 
ous sights or sounds had been seen, or heard. 

The young couple were living in a magnificent mansion, 
filled with splendid furniture, enriched with priceless 
treasures of decorative art, rare books, choice paintings 
and fine sculptures, and attended by trained servants ; — • 
and their days were full of sunshine, and their nights were 
full of peace. 

“ I don’t believe the old house is haunted at all” ex- 
claimed Milly,in the very same injured, discontented tone, 
in which I once heard a schoolboy on board an ocean 
steamer cry out : “ Half-way across the Atlantic and no 
storm yet ! ” 

But the boy was destined to meet his tempest, and the 
lady her supernatural fright. 

“All in good time,” her husband had said with a laugh. 
“The Ides of March— that is to say, the month of Jan- 
uary — has not come yet.” 

December passed with them in bright and serene hap- 
piness. 

The thirty-first, the last day of the month and of the 
year, arrived. 

There was to be a grand ball at the British Minister’s 
that night. 

The Secretary of Legation and Mrs. Rogers Ruthven 
had, of course, been invited. 


46 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


But Milly had promptly excused herself upon the plea 
of indisposition. 

That was not, however, her only reason. She had 
another and a stronger one for staying at home. 

It had been her thoughtful, reverent custom, from child- 
hood up, to watch the old year out. 

She never permitted anything to interfere with this self- 
imposed duty. 

The habit had originated in this way: In her tender 
and sensitive childhood she had happened to read Tenny- 
son’s solemn and beautiful “ Death of the Old Year.” 

It had taken powerful and permanent possession of her 
imagination, and thenceforth the old year was touchingly 
personified to her, and she would no more have danced 
away the last hours of the 31st of December than she 
would have trifled by the death-bed of her father. 

When the time came to dress for the ball, her lover 
husband said to her regretfully : 

“ If you are really too much indisposed to go, Milly 
dear, I would much rather stay home with you.” 

“ My dear Adolphe, do not think of staying home ! It 
would never do ! It is not only your social duty, but I 
think it is also your official duty to attend your chief’s ball. 
As for me, I am well enough to-night ; better than I ex- 
pected to be ; and at any rate I am not so much indisposed 
in health as I am indisposed to go out ! I told you of my 
lifelong habit of watching the old year out ? ” 

“ Yes, love,” he answered, gravely and sweetly. 

“Well, I do not wish to depart from it. Go you to 
your pleasant duty in the minister’s circle to-night, and 
make my excuses again if any one asks for me. I shall 
sit by the death-bed of the dear old year and think of all 
the good that he has brought to me — jmur love the best of 
all — and hold his bountiful hand and gaze on his face 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


47 


until he passes away to join the grand centuries of years 
in the past.” 

The young husband still watched his wife regretfully. 

“ Don’t think that you are leaving me to a dull evening, 
dear Adolphe, for indeed it will be a happy, though a 
pensive one,” she added, with a smile. 

“ Well, I will return early — as early as I decently can,” 
said the gentleman, as he rang for his valet and retired to 
his dressing-room to prepare his evening toilet. 

At ten o’clock Ruthven left the house for the ball. 

Milly, standing in the parlor, listened until the sound 
of his carriage wheels died away in the distance, and then 
she went up-stairs to her own luxurious apartment. 

It was a lofty and spacious chamber, upholstered in 
rosewood and rose-colored velvet, of the most commodious 
and beautiful designs. 

Milly touched the bell that brought both her attendants 
from the little room adjoining hers, where they usually sat 
and sewed. 

“ You may give me my dressing-gown and put away my 
dress, and then you can both go out to your watch-meeting 
if you wish,” she said. 

“ Yes, mist ’ess. Thank’y, ma’am. But we was think- 
ing — Sissy and me — how, as master was gone to the ball, 
maybe you might be lonesome and we had better stay 
home ’long of you, young mist’ess, and we is quite agree- 
able to do it, me and Hebe is so /” said Venus, cheerfully. 

“No, no; by no means! Not at all! You are accus- 
tomed every year to go to a Methodist church to watch 
the old year out. It is a custom that I approve of with all 
my heart. I would not have you break it. Just make 
me comfortable here, and then go, both of you,” said the 
lady, as she stepped out of the rich purple velvet dress 
that had dropped in a glowing drift around her feet, and 


48 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


took the wadded white satin wrapper, trimmed with swan’s 
down, which Hebe was holding for her. 

“Well, my dear and kind young mist’ess, as you think 
you won’t want us, we will go as usual and thank you 
much,” replied Venus, as she proceeded to hang up her 
lady’s dress and put away her jewels. 

Milly then sat down in her own luxurious arm-chair 
and yielded her feet to Hebe, who divested them of their 
pretty little black satin bootees and encased them in white 
velvet slippers, lined and trimmed with ermine. 

Finally, having looked to the fire and the lamp, they 
bade their lady a respectful good-night and left the room 
to go and attend the watch-meeting. 

Milly was left absolutely alone at her chamber fire. 

And a very bright, beautiful, and attractive picture was 
that solitary fireside. 

A clear, brilliant, glowing fire of anthracite coal burned 
in the polished steel grate, shining on the silver-cased 
fender and fire-irons ; on the white marble hearth ; on the 
rich Turkey rug ; on the rose velvet footstool where Milly’s 
white slippered feet nestled ; on her sheeny soft white satin 
robe that flowed around her pretty form, in pale relief 
against the back and arms of the rosy velvet chair ; and on 
Milly’s own beautiful brunette face, with its ripe carnation 
cheeks and lips ; its deep, dark dreamy eyes, and rippling 
waves of lustrous jet black hair. 

By the side of her easy-chair there was a little stand of 
Russian malachite, supporting an alabaster lamp supplied 
with a perfumed oil that filled the air with a delicious in- 
cense. By the lamp lay a small volume bound in white 
vellum and gold. 

But the light of the lamp was turned very low, and the 
lady sat with her head thoughtfully bowed upon one 
jewelled hand. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


49 


She was feeling very lonely. Her husband was away on 
social and official duty at the ball at the British Embassy. 

Her two personal attendants had gone to keep their 
midnight watch at church. 

The other women servants of the house were all in bed 
and asleep in the upper chambers of the distant back 
building. 

The men servants slept out of the house, in comfortable 
apartments over the stables. 

Milly was alone and was feeling very lonely, but not 
depressed — only pensive as became the time. 

The silver-toned, ormolu clock on the wrought-marble 
mantel-piece chimed eleven ! 

The death hour of the old year had come ! 

She arose now, went to the front window, drew aside the 
lace and velvet curtains, opened the shutters and looked 
out. 

Not a star was to be seen in all the darkened^ sky ! It 
was snowing thick and fast, and the ground was already 
deeply covered with snow. She could see how deeply, for 
the pedestals of the lamp-posts on their own lawn were 
already buried. 

How still it was ! 

Not even a foot-passenger to be seen on the avenue be- 
yond their front gates. The lamps that marked the corners 
of the distant streets flickered feebly in their glass cases 
through the white mist of the snow. 

She closed the shutters, drew the curtains, and turned 
from the dreary winter night view outside to her bright 
and comfortable fire within. 

She sank down in her easy-chair, raised the light of the 
lamp, took up the volume from the table, opened it at a 
place kept by a book-mark, and began to read slowly, with 
long, thoughtful pauses between each stanza, a poem that 


50 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


it had been her custom to read at this last hour of the 
year for many years past. It was 

“THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR.” 

BY ALFRED TENNYSON. 

“Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, 

And the winter winds are wearily sighing; 

Toll ye the church bells sad and slow, 

And tread softly and speak low, 

For the old year lies a-dying. 

Old year, you must not die ; 

You came to us so readily, 

You lived with us so steadily, 

Old year, you shall not die. 

“ He lieth still ; he doth not move : 

He will not see the dawn of day ; 

He hath no other life above ; 

He gave me a friend and a true, true love, 

And the new year may take ’em away. 

Old year, you must not go; 

So long as you have been with us. 

Such joy as you have seen with us, 

Old year, you shall not go. 

“ He frothed his bumpers to the brim ; 

A jollier year we ne’er shall see, 

But though his eyes are waxing dim, 

And though his foes speak ill of him. 

He was a friend to me. 

Old year, you shall not die ; 

We did so laugh and cry with you, 

I’ve half a mind to die with you, 

Old year, if you must die. 

“ He was so full of joke and jest, 

But all his merry quibs are o’er. 

To see him die, across the waste 
His son and heir doth ride post-haste, 

But he’ll be dead before. 

Every one for his own. 

The night is dreary and cold, my friend, 

And the New Year, blithe and bold, ray friend. 

Comes up to take his own. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING 


51 


“ How hard he breathes ! Over the snow 
I heard just now the crowing cock; 

The shadows flicker to and fro ; 

The cricket chirps; the light burns low; 

J Tis nearly twelve o’clock. 

Shake hands before you die. 

Old year, we’ll dearly rue for you ; 

What is it we can do for you ? 

Speak out before you die. 

“ His face is growing sharp and thin. 

Alack ! our friend is gone. 

Close up his eyes : tie up his chin ; 

Step from the corpse and let him in 
That standeth there alone, 

And waiteth at the door. 

There’s a new foot on the floor, my friend, 

And a new face at the door, my friend — 

A new face at the door.” 

So slowly and reverently had she read this solemn and 
beautiful dirge, with such long, thoughtful pauses between 
each stanza, that the clock was chiming twelve as she 
finished the last line. 

With the last stroke of the clock she laid the book on 
the little table, turned down the light to a subdued tone, 
sat back in her chair and sank into reverie. 

“ Heaven of i-ieavens ! what was that ? ” 

A wail, low, deep, mournful and prolonged, rose close to 
her side — swelled and filled the air with its despairing 
anguish ! 

She sprang, and then sunk back in her chair paralyzed 
with terror, unable to move, cry out, or even to breathe. 

The wail died away as it had arisen, and then through 
the awful silence that followed came a voice, low, clear and 
metallic as the chink of gold, saying but three words : 

“ Watch ! listen I remember ! ” 

And while she sat there spell-bound in a trance of horror, 

3 


52 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


her affrighted and dilated eyes took in this appalling 
scene. 

The walls of the room around her seemed melting into 
cloud and vapor — that presently began to clear away to 
reveal, not her own rosy room, but another more spacious 
and more splendid chamber, upholstered in white velvet, 
ivory, satin-wood, mother-of-pearl and gold. 

She recognized the room. It was the most choice 
guest-chamber, that was kept closed and set apart for 
their most distinguished visitors, if they should ever 
have any. 

But now the familiar room wore a strange look of 
gorgeous confusion. Magnificent robes, dresses and shawls 
were displayed upon tables, chairs and sofas. Jewels in 
glittering caskets flashed from the dressing-table and from 
many a stand and bracket. 

A bevy of beautiful girls in white and flower-decked 
dresses moved about busily in the splendid disorder. 

Two, the most beautiful of the crowd, were standing 
near the toilet glass. Both were in bridal array — long- 
trained white satin robes, long veils and wreaths of orange 
flowers. 

She — the appalled spectator of this ghostly phantasma- 
goria — recognized the originals of the portraits in the pic- 
ture gallery — the two brides, twin beauties. 

In the portraits they had both been “ smiling as in de- 
lighted visions ; ” but here, in the form, one only seemed 
happy — the one who stood on the right hand of the mir- 
ror, shyly glancing at her own bright reflection, while with 
raised round arm she smoothed a refractory ebon curl, 
that would insist on kissing her eyebrow. Very happy, as 
well as very beautiful, looked this lovely young creature, 
except when her glance happened to fall on her sister. 
Then, indeed, the bright brow was overclouded with grief, 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


53 


and the clear eyes dimmed with tears ; and well it might 
be so, for on that other poor sister’s face sat the stony, 
frozen pallor of death, or of despair. 

Presently there was a gentle movement, as if the bevy 
of girls were about to leave the room. 

The one sister’s lovely face beamed with joy ; the other’s 
seemed to burn as with a sudden flush of shame, and then 
to congeal with a fixed white horror. 

They were moving towards the door, the pallid bride 
lingering last of all, when a hand was laid upon her arm, 
and a small note slipped between her fingers. 

With a start of surprise she turned towards the cloaked 
and hooded woman who stood in the shadows. 

With a gesture of caution she then went towards the 
light, and opened and appeared to read the note. 

What magic was in it ? 

With a sudden flash of exceeding great joy that trans- 
figured her pale face into transcendent beauty, she pressed 
the note to her lips and to her heart, then drew from its 
folds what seemed to be a white wafer, and concealed it in 
the glove of her right hand. 

All this transpired in less than half a minute ; and then 
the door was opened, and several of the bridesmaids 
looked in as if in search of their lagging companion. 

She went toward them eagerly, joyously now, and the 
door closed after her. 

During all this wondrous spectacle the astounded 
beholder sat without power of speech or motion. 

Now the walls of the white guest chamber seemed to 
dissolve in clouds, as the walls of her own rosy room had 
first appeared to do, and then, as before, the mist began to 
clear away and reveal another apartment — the grand 
saloon of the mansion-house, on the west side of the great 
hall. 


54 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


And this saloon was profusely decorated with flowers, 
brilliantly lighted with chandeliers, and filled with a gay 
and splendid company. 

On the middle of the floor stood a bishop in his vest- 
ments, with a clergyman, in a gown, on each side of him. 

These three had open books in their hands. 

Before them stood the bridal party — two brides, two 
bridegrooms, and a long train of bridesmaids and 
groomsmen. 

Around this group surged the crowd of wedding guests. 

But the eyes of the transfixed spectator were fascinated 
to the bridal group, that shown out clear and distinct, as 
if the light of the calcium ray had been thrown upon 
them. 

No word or sound was heard. All seemed to pass in 
dumb show. 

The opening exhortation and prayer seemed to be read, 
and then the question of questions put to the happy- 
looking young bridegroom and the radiant bride by his 
side. 

And then from the crowd stepped a stately old gentle- 
man, in a swallow-tailed coat, white vest, snowy shirt- 
ruffles, and white kid gloves, and took the hand of the 
lovely bride and placed it in that of the handsome bride- 
groom, who slipped the wedding ring upon her finger and 
repeated the marriage vows. 

Next the bishop turned to the second bridegroom and 
bride ; and oh ! what a change was here ! 

This bridegroom was little, ugly, and old, with none of 
the dignity or venerableness of age about him. A hideous 
black wig made his shrivelled face look even older than 
its age, while the long beard that, if left to nature, might 
have redeemed the utter meanness of the countenance, 
was marred by a rusty black dye. More revolting than 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 55 

all the rest was the cross-mark of the beast and the devil 
in the low, sensual, cunning and malignant expression ! 

And his bride ! Her face was a terror and a horror to 
look upon ; for that beautiful young face was transformed 
by a glare of demoniac hate, defiance and triumph ! 

The dumb show of question and answer, however, 
passed, or seemed to pass, between these parties also, and 
then the gray-haired stately gentleman in the kids and 
ruffled shirt once more stepped to the front, took the hand 
of the defiant bride, and would have placed it in that of 
the abhorrent bridegroom ; but then the first sound broke 
the weird silence of the scene ! 

The bride uttered a shrill, ear-piercing shriek, suddenly 
placed the tips of her fingers to her lips, and sunk to the 
floor ! 

In an instant, with her fall, an earthquake seemed to 
shake the house ! The walls of the room tumbled down 
and melted away in vaporous clouds, the scene dissolved, 
and — 

The overstrained nerves of the spectator gave way, and 
she lost consciousness. 

An hour later Venus and Hebe, coming in from the 
watch-meeting and entering their mistress’s room to see 
if she required anything more that night, found her ex- 
tended in a swoon on the floor. 

In great distress, and in bitter Relf-reproach for having 
left her alone, they tenderly lifted her and laid her on the 
sofa and used all the means that the elder woman’s expe- 
rience suggested to restore her to consciousness. 

When the young lady opened her eyes, at length, she 
threw a terrified glance around the room and whispered, 

“ Is it gone ? Is it gone ? ” 

“ What gone, dear mist’ess ? ” inquired Venus. 


56 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


“ The •phantom wedding party” 

“Wedding party? — mist’ess, surely you has been 
dreaming! ” exclaimed Venus, in surprise, while she con- 
tinued to bathe the young lady’s face with lavender water. 

“Yes, yes, no doubt dreaming! A terrible dream! 
Let it go so ! Let it go so ! ” 

“ What can we do for you, mist’ess ? ” inquired Hebe. 

“ Help me to go to bed. And, mammy, give me a dose 
of chloral in orange water — and — don’t leave me ! Sit by 
me until Mr. Ruthven comes in,” said the lady. 

“ That I will, mist’ess ! ’Deed I’se sorry to my heart as 
I ever did leave you and I won’t do it again,” Venus 
earnestly declared. 

And the two tenderly undressed Milly, put her night- 
gown on her and helped her to her bed. 

Then Venus carefully administered the chloral, while 
Hebe placed a screen before the glowing fire and lowered 
the light in the lamp. 

Finally Venus sat down in an arm-chair beside her mis- 
tress’s bed, and Hebe lay down on the Turkey rug before 
the fire. 

And soon all three were fast asleep. 

And so the master of the house found them, at five 
o’clock the next morning, when he came home from the 
minister’s ball, let himself in with his latch key and 
passed at once up into his wife’s room. 

He touched the slumbering old woman lightly on the 
shoulder to waken her without disturbing Milly. 

Venus started suddenly, gaped as if she would have split 
her mouth, yawned as if she would have dislocated her 
arms, and then she came to herself and stared at her master. 

“What is the matter? Is not your mistress well? ” Mr. 
Ruthven inquired, uneasily. 

“ Yes, sir ! — No, sir ! — Yes, sir ! — Please come over here to 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


57 


the window, if you please, sir, and I will tell you all about 
it,” said the woman, in some confusion, from her sudden 
awakening and also from her imperfect comprehension of 
her mistress’s case. 

Mr. Ruthven followed the nurse, across the room, and 
heard from her lips of the condition in which she had 
found Mrs. Ruthven, on returning from the watch-meeting 
at one o’clock. 

“ Which I couldn’t tell you, marster, no, not if I was to 
be put upon the rack and tortured, whether it was a 
real fright and a fainty fit that she had, or whether she 
went so fast asleep that she slipped down out of the chair 
on to the floor, without waking up and had a bad dream 
in consequence. Anyhow we found her in a dead sleep 
or faint, one or t’other ; but we laid her on the sofa and 
soon fetched her to her senses, which the first word she 
spoke was something about a wedding as made me think 
she had been a dreaming,” Venus explained. 

“ You should not have left your mistress alone. Had I 
supposed that she would have permitted you to go, I 
should have remained with her myself. You should not 
have left her, I say.” 

“Which I know that! I should never a done it and 
I’ll never forgive myself for doing it ! never! ” said Venus. 

Meantime, the talking had awakened Hebe on the rug, 
where she now sat, rubbing her fists into her eyes and 
trjung to recollect herself. 

Milly, in her perfect chloral sleep, rested undisturbed. 

Mr. Ruthven stood and looked over her for some min- 
utes in silence. 

“ She will sleep at least four hours longer, marster, and 
then she will wake up all right,” said Venus, in a re- 
assuring tone. 

Mr. Ruthven nodded and then dismissed the two ser- 


58 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


vants from the room, and locked the door, that he also 
might lie down and seek a few hours’ repose. 

About nine o’clock in the morning Milly awoke, per- 
fectly refreshed, but with a clear and awful memory of the 
night’s horrors. 

Ruthven was still soundly sleeping off the fatigue of the 
hall. 

Milly arose and dressed herself very quietly, not to 
disturb him, and went down-stairs, full of a new plan that 
she determined to put in execution that very day. 

She breakfasted alone, and then sent a servant down to 
the rear cottage to request the presence of the eldest of 
“ The Furies.” 

The old crone, in grateful remembrance of the home 
she enjoyed by the favor of the Kuthvens, came at the 
call. 

She was shown into Milly’s boudoir, where the lady 
soon joined her. 

When they were seated together before the coal fire, 
with their feet on the fender, the old woman said : 

“ I know w T hy you have sent for me here, though you 
can’t screw up your courage to tell me I ” 

“ What do you know ? ” demanded Milly, in supersti- 
tious fear of the withered witch-like woman, whose blear 
eyes were fixed so intently upon her. 

“I know that you have seen the Phantom Wedding. 
The Marriage of the Bride of Death ! ” 

“ Good heaven ! How do you know this ? ” whispered 
Milly, pale and shuddering. 

“ Because last night was the thirty-first anniversary of 
that marriage, and no one ever passed that anniversary 
night in those rooms without seeing it.” 

“ What does it mean ? What does it mean ? ” demanded 
Milly, shivering as with an ague. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 59 

“ I will tell you. You have been good to me, and I will 
tell you. I was their housekeeper then.” 


The tale told by the old crone, at the winter fireside, 
was drawn from many authentic sources — from personal 
observation, from coroners’ inquests, and from death-bed 
confessions. But it was told in the rambling and inco- 
herent manner peculiar to such narrators. I prefer to 
relate it in my own words. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE BRIDAL OF DEATH. 

“We were two sisters of one race, 

She was the fairer in the face. 

“ Thy bride, the victim of thy pride, 

Thou know’st for me was destined long; 

Thou saw’st and coveted’st her charms ; 

And with thy very crime, my birth, 

Thou taunted’st me, as little worth, 

A match ignoble for her arms, 

Because, forsooth, I could not claim 

The lawful heirship of thy name.” — BYRON. 

“ He sent to her, and said : 1 Your queenly grief 
At losing me, my lady, is so great, 

I long to find you some such calm relief 
As suits imperial state — 

Something to draw, with childlike breath, 

The poison we call life from your fair breast. 

Leaving the languor of a lovely death 
With you — with God the rest I — ANON. 

P ETER FLINT was a banker of fabulous wealth. His 
financial resources were popularly believed to be 
unlimited. 

He lived in a style of princely magnificence, and gave 
away fortunes in public charities. 

Every one trusted him with their money, from the poor 


60 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


servant-girl, who put away her five dollars for a rainy day, 
to the large capitalist, who deposited his many thousands, 
pending investments. 

Peter Flint’s winter palace in Washington, and his sum- 
mer villa, at Newport, were marvels of luxury, elegance 
and hospitality. 

A fine-looking man was this wealthy banker — tall, erect, 
broad-shouldered, deep-chested, with a stately head, well 
covered with silver-gray hair, and a handsome face, 
adorned with a flowing silver-gray beard. Perhaps the 
mouth was a little too wide, and the lips too severely thin 
and tightly shut, and the eyes too cold and steely in their 
gaze. 

But Peter Flint was a hard, hard, very hard man. If, 
in the oldest of old times, men received their surnames 
from some personal attribute or circumstance, the first 
ancestral Flint must have got his name from the stoniness 
of his nature, and must have transmitted the attribute 
with the name to his latest descendants. 

None knew, or had better cause to know, the hardness 
of Peter Flint’s nature than did the fair young wife, whom 
he had married in his middle age, and who had died in 
the first year of her married life, or than did the two 
beautiful twin daughters that she had left to the care of a 
cold, proud, ambitious, unloving father. 

She had named her little daughters Theodora and 
Dorothea — “ gifts of God,” and he had given careless con- 
sent to the names chosen; but he had done so, less in 
reverence to the Giver than in total indifference to the 
gifts. They were nothing but girls; they could never 
become bankers, and so they were of little account. If 
they had been boys, now, who could have perpetuated his 
name and business, the case would have been very 
different. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


61 


Within less than a year after the death of his young 
wife, Peter Flint, then fifty years old, married again, in 
the hope of having male heirs. He married the wealthiest 
heiress he could find, because his prodigious riches did not 
prevent him from always keeping an eye to the “main 
chance.” On the contrary, his avarice seemed to grow 
by what it fed on. 

This second marriage was not a happy one. In the first 
place, it was a bitter disappointment, being fruitful neither 
in heirs nor even in heiresses. 

The banker felt that he had made an unlucky specula- 
tion in the matrimonial stock-market; he had drawn a 
blank, instead of a prize. 

The lady equally knew that she herself had made a 
great mistake. She was not “ the old man’s darling ” that 
she had hoped to be. She was not the petted “ child-wife,” 
whose every wish was law to a doting old husband. She 
had not money, dresses, jewels, shawls, horses, opera- 
boxes, platonic lovers and all the rest of the delights that, 
as “ a married woman,” “ an old man’s darling,” “ a petted 
and spoiled child-wife,” she had promised herself! 

By no manner of means ! Quite the contrary ! 

In the first place, her husband, the banker, invested her 
money as pleased himself , and doled out its interest to her as 
he thought fit. Then he regulated all her personal expenses 
upon what he called a rational basis, and what she called 
a mean and parsimonious scale. Besides, money was not 
made to spend, but to speculate with ; or, if to be spent at 
all, to be spent by him, not by her. Finally, he disap- 
proved of horses, opera-boxes, and above all, of platonic 
lovers. And he put his foot down upon them en masse. 

The second Mrs. Flint was no patient Griselda, to lie 
down at a man’s feet and let him walk on her, and pre- 
tend that she liked it. She was a self-willed beauty, who 


62 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


had had her own way all her life, and meant to have it to 
the bitter end. 

Two circumstances gave her great power. The first was, 
that she had no children to bind her to Peter Flint. The 
second was, that she had not even the least little bit of 
love for him. 

At length, after seven years of married misery, that had 
begun in bickerings and ended in the most violent and 
disgraceful quarrels, Peter Flint had one day so completely 
lost his self-possession, and forgotten his manhood, as to 
whip his exasperating young wife — actually to whip her 
with a horse-whip, as if she had been a refractory school- 
boy ! 

And from that hour, she was his master ! She knew it, 
and she made him know it ! If he had picked a pocket, 
or robbed a till, or broken open a house, it might possibly 
have been forgiven him I But he had whipped his wife, 
and he had disgraced himself forever and ever. Amen ! 

She could expose his degrading act, by taking the law 
of him, or she could conceal it. She had him in her 
power, and she made him feel it ! She blackmailed him 
bitterly from that day. 

She had a separation arranged on her own terms, and 
with a princely income as alimony. 

She went home to live -with her father in Boston ; and 
there, more from policy than from principle, and more 
from spite than either, she lived so discreet a life, that the 
very worst scandal-mongers could pick no flaw in her 
conduct ; for she was determined that Peter Flint should 
never have the slightest excuse to bring an action for 
divorce to free himself from her, and marry some one else 
to fulfil his darling wish to have male heirs. 

After the separation, the humiliated and disappointed 
husband grew much more bitter, reserved, and unloving 
than ever. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


63 


His little girls, thrown exclusively upon each other for 
society and affection, loved one another with a love “ pass- 
ing the love of woman.” 

In infancy they had shared the same cradle, in child- 
hood, the same bed, the same little table, the same gover- 
ness, the same books, the same school-room. They always 
dressed exactly alike. They were never happy if they 
were for five minutes apart. 

Nurses and teachers were wont to say that Dora and 
Doe had but one soul between them. 

It was strange their father did not love them; but it 
was true — he could not forgive them for being girls. 

Yet his pride provided for their education, and it was 
whispered by those that professed to know the banker and 
his intentions, that Peter Flint meant to make them co- 
heiresses of his colossal fortune ; but only on condition 
that whomsoever they should marry should take the name 
of Flint, and succeed him at the bank. 

At eighteen years of age the twin beauties made their 
debut in Washington society with great eclat . 

A grand ball was given at the Flint Palace in honor 
of the occasion; and at this, their very first ball, the 
two young belles met the parties who were to be their 
fates. 

The queenly Theodora contradicted all the common 
theories concerning the natural selection of opposites in 
marriage, for she found her mate in a young Southern 
Creole as dark, or darker, than herself. The gentle Doro- 
thea, or Doe, as she was called, found hers in a fair young 
Bostonian. 

Laurenz Levierre, the Creole, was the only son of a 
Louisiana planter of princely fortune. Alfred Adair, the 
Yankee, was a younger son of a Boston merchant of mode- 
rate wealth and large family. 


64 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


They were both spending a part of the fashionable season 
in Washington. 

These young gentlemen soon became frequent and at 
length daily visitors at the Flint Palace. 

In due time their declarations of love were made to the 
daughters, and proposals of marriage laid before the 
father. 

The banker had already set on foot secret inquiries rela- 
tive to the whole moral, social and financial status of these 
young men, and apparently he had found it to be satis- 
factory. 

But now had to be announced the conditions, and the 
only conditions upon which the banker would consent to 
the marriages of his coheiresses — namely, that before such 
marriages the proposed husbands should consent to assume 
the name of Flint. 

The young Bostonian made no difficulty at all on this 
subject. There were sons enough in his father’s house to 
keep up the family name, Adair, but, as a matter of cour- 
tesy, he wrote and consulted his parents, and soon received 
the written approval and congratulations — for was he not 
about to marry the daughter of Croesus, and was not his 
fortune made ? 

But the young Creole was an only son. He could not 
hope that his father would consent to his change of name. 
He felt that his “ course of true love was not running 
smooth : that it was approaching the ‘ rapids.’ ” However, 
as an act of necessity, he wrote and laid the whole case 
before his father, with the assurance that his life’s happi- 
ness depended on his union with Theodora. 

In due course of mail he received an answer. To his 
astonishment and great joy that answer proved to be a 
prompt and unqualified approval and consent, with hearty 
congratulations. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


65 


Young Levierre could almost have wept in the depth of 
his gratitude ! His father had seldom shown him proofs 
of affection, and never one so strong as this. 

The son could scarcely understand such self-forgetting 
magnanimity ! Alas ! he had too much cause to compre- 
hend it only too well before many months passed over 
his head ! 

Now, however, there was a period of serenest joy for the 
four young lovers. 

Even Peter Flint himself was happier than he had been 
for many long years, for was he not about to have the 
dearest wish of his heart fulfilled in the marriage of 
his daughters to two young men who, in addition to 
every other desirable qualification, had given their 
consent to taking his own name to hand it down to 
posterity ? 

It is true that the Bostonian being the fifth son of a 
large mercantile family would bring but a younger son’s 
portion to the marriage, but then he brought financial 
talent that was a fortune in itself, and also that invaluable 
willingness to drop his own name for that of the banker. 
So Peter Flint was perfectly satisfied with his tall, fair- 
haired son-in-law elect. 

The young Creole brought everything ! Everything 
and everything else ! A colossal fortune with all the rest 
(and be it whispered very low at this point, the fabulously 
wealthy banker, the Croesus, the Fortunatus, had now a 
million times more credit than money, though this sinister 
fact was neither known nor suspected by any one). 

Preparations were rapidly progressing for the double 
wedding that was to be celebrated with almost regal 
pomp. 

The mother and one sister and brother of young Adair 
came to the city to be present at the marriage. The father 


66 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


could not leave his business, but he sent magnificent wed- 
ding presents to both brides. 

The father of Laurenz Levierre also sent splendid gifts ; 
but what the son liked better was the father’s promise 
to come North and be present at the wedding. 

About this time the two young men formed the idea of 
having the twin beauties’ portraits taken together in their 
bridal dresses, as a parting present to their father. 

The work was commenced at once, and the brides 
were sketched in the very heyday of their bloom and 
delight. 

In the early days of December, Pierre Levierre, the 
father of the young Creole, arrived in Washington. 

The double wedding was to be celebrated on New Year’s 
eve, in the grand saloon of the mansion. 

The fashionable world was all excitement over the 
approaching event. 

It was on the tenth of the same month that Pierre 
Levierre met his daughter-in-law elect for the first time. 

Laurenz brought him to the house on the evening when 
the family were assembled in the drawing-room. 

The surprise and admiration of the old man on behold- 
ing the young beauty was unquestionable and most 
flattering. 

He held her hand and gazed into her lovely face until 
her dark eyes fell and her tender cheeks flushed under his 
warm regard; then he drew her to his bosom in a close 
embrace, and pressed his lips to hers in a clinging kiss. 

The poor child could not repulse the father of her be- 
trothed in the presence of his son; but her eyes filled with 
tears of shame and vexation, as she gently withdrew her- 
self from the arms of the hideous old satyr, upon whose 
ugliness she could scarcely bear to look. 

Was this the father of her Laurenz? Was this the man 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


67 


whose actions had been, or had appeared to be, so generous 
that she had felt ready to worship as well as to reverence 
him ? — this shrivelled, black- wigged, leering old fop, whose 
foul caress had shocked and shamed her ? 

It seemed incredible ! impossible ! Why, he filled her 
soul with disgust and abhorrence ! She shrunk from him 
with instinctive fear and hatred ! 

And oh ! she had good cause ! Does not the bird shud- 
der at the sight of its enemy, the cat ? its destroyer, the 
snake ? 

Can it be comprehended ? If history did not furnish 
similar instances of senile depravity it could never be be- 
lieved ; but it is true that this aged sensualist was seized 
with a sudden, burning and consuming passion for his 
son’s betrothed bride ! That warm embrace, that clinging 
kiss, had kindled up the fire in the feverish, inflammable 
old bosom. 

He was staying now at the Indian Queen Hotel, but he 
came to see Theodora every evening. 

On meeting and parting with her each night he never 
failed to avail himself of his privilege of embracing and 
kissing the reluctant and shrinking girl, who had no power 
to repel the caresses of her betrothed’s father. 

So day by day his sinful passion grew. 

Did he dream of resisting it ? 

No ! He had never in his life resisted a temptation, or 
denied himself a gratification. 

He tried every day to see Theodora alone. But this 
tite-h-tete the girl managed to avoid. 

At length as the marriage day drew nearer, Pierre 
Levierre deliberately resolved to make the girl his own 
bride. 

He had, through avenues of information known only to 
himself and a detective officer, learned exactly the financial 


68 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


condition of the banker, and knew how hollow at the core, 
how ready to fall, the whole splendid edifice of seeming 
wealth really was. He knew that the money he had in- 
tended to give his son, on his marriage with the banker’s 
daughter, was absolutely needed to keep the banker’s 
credit up. So, to some considerable extent, he had that 
banker in his power. 

On the twentieth of December, just eleven days before 
the double wedding was to come off, Pierre Levierre re- 
quested the favor of a private interview with Peter Flint. 

The banker accorded it with prompt courtesy, and in- 
vited his guest to join him in the library. 

There the two old men sat down to converse with closed 
doors. 

They were really near the same age, but how different 
in appearance ! 

Peter Flint, tall, portly, majestic, with a fresh, fair com- 
plexion, and a reverent gray head and beard; Pierre 
Levierre, small, slight, stooping, shrivelled, with sallow 
skin, blinking eyes, dyed beard and bewigged head. 

“ You wished an interview with me, Mr. Levierre. If I 
can serve you in any way, I should be happy to learn 
how,” said Peter Flint, rising, and standing with his back 
to the coal fire, and with his right hand in his bosom — 
a favorite attitude with him. 

“The truth is I have come to make a confession,” said 
Levierre. 

Peter Flint looked attentive and — puzzled ! 

“An explanation that should have been made at an 
earlier date — only — only it was very difficult, and the 
longer it was put off the more difficult it grew, until now 
it seems well-nigh impossible ! But it must be made all 
the same.” 

Peter Flint began to look anxious and alarmed. Was 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


69 


the wealthy planter in peril of bankruptcy also ? Would 
it be difficult or impracticable to pay down his son’s wed- 
ding portion? If so, there seemed nothing but ruin 
before the House of Flint ! 

“You have accepted my son as your daughter’s 
husband, without clearly understanding his position in 
relation to myself.” 

“I beg you will be explicit, Mr. Levierre,” said the 
banker, growing more and more alarmed. 

“ Laurenz is not my legitimate son.” 

“ Sir ! ! ” exclaimed the banker, recoiling and frowning 
as he gazed on the confessed evil-doer. 

“ Oh, come, come, Flint ! No virtuous indignation, if 
you please ! I dare say you have sown a few wild oats 
yourself in your time ! This young blade is a pledge of 
mine ! ” said Levierre, with an ugly leer. 

“ I certainly supposed Mr. Laurenz Levierre to be your 
lawful son and heir,” said the banker, with cold severity. 

“ Of course you did ! So does he ! So does everybody ! 
No one knows to the contrary, except myself. No one 
else ever did know except his mother, and she has been in 
her grave these ten years past, poor soul ! Best place for 
her ! What’s a woman worth to herself or any one else, 
after she has lost her beauty ? ” 

“ If what you tell me is the truth, Mr. Levierre, as I am 
bound to believe it from your lips, then, of course, all 
thoughts of a marriage between my daughter and your 
son must be set aside, and done with forever,” said Peter 
Flint, drawing himself up to his full height. 

“ I thought you would say that ! I should say it my- 
self, if I were in your place ! It is a pity, too ; for I was 
prepared to settle a princely fortune on the young bride,” 
said Levierre, closely watching the effect of his words 
upon his hearer. 


70 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


The banker winced. The fortune gone, bankruptcy 
seemed inevitable. 

“ I suppose, then, the proposed marriage is quite out of 
the question ? ” pursued Levierre. 

“ Quite,” said the banker, in a faint and hesitating voice 
that seemed to invite a renewal of the discussion. 

“ Then, my friend, as her union with my son is impos- 
sible, what do you say to myself, as a candidate for your 
daughter’s hand? ” abruptly inquired the old man. 

“ Mr. Levierre ! ! I ” exclaimed Peter Flint, in unbounded 
amazement. 

“ Well, you needn’t cry out and stare so ! I am not the 
first old David that ever needed a young Abishag to warm 
him! Nor the first gay old boy that wished to reform, 
and settle down into holy matrimony, which your ritual 
commends to be honorable among all men. Come, Flint ! 
This is rather a sudden proposal, I grant ! But then I 
have little time to lose at my age, and I have taken a 
fancy to the girl and find myself in deadly earnest! 
Think of it ! You know the sum I was about to settle on 
her had she become the wife of my son. That is out of 
the question now, of course, for you have said so ! But if 
you will give her to me, as my wife, I will settle ten times 
as much on her , and let you invest the money as you see 
fit.” 

“ * Ten times as much, and let me invest the money as I 
see fit.’ This is rescue ! ” muttered the banker, but not 
audibly. 

“ Come, Flint, what do you say ? ” 

Peter Flint lifted his eyes to those of Pierre Levierre. 
The two old men — the worldly man and the sensual man 
— exchanged glances and understood each other. 

When the World and the Flesh meet in consultation, 
the Devil is sure to make a third. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


71 


And before this evil council rose, Laurenz Levierre’s 
most sacred rights had been betrayed by his father, and 
Theodora Flint had been sold for a price by hers. 

It was all arranged between them. 

On leaving the library, Pierre Levierre went into the 
drawing-room where his son was seated by the side of 
Theodora, and said to the happy, unsuspecting youth : 

“ Laurenz, my boy, I want you to take your hat and 
walk down with me as far as the hotel.” 

The young man sprang up eagerly to obey his father, 
intending to fly back as soon as possible to the presence 
of his affianced bride. 

Alas ! he never saw her face again in life. 

His father, after a bow and a leer at his intended victim, 
drew him out. 

They walked together down quiet back streets to 
the hotel. On their way the father told the son the 
sinful, shameful, cruel secret of his birth, and the repu- 
diation of his promised marriage by Mr. Flint, on that 
account. 

The amazement, humiliation and despair of the youth 
passed all power of words to represent. 

“And with this blot upon my birth, you could let me 
engage myself to marry a young lady of irreproachable 
lineage,” groaned the young man, in great bitterness of 
spirit. 

“My boy,” replied Pierre Levierre, hypocritically, “I 
knew nothing about your courtship, until you wrote to me 
that you had won the girl’s affections, and that your 
happiness depended on your union with her. It was too 
late then to prevent mischief. I did what I could. I gave 
in to all old Flint’s whims, consented to settle a large sum 
upon the girl — consented that you should take the name 
of Flint, and thought that when honor compelled me to 


72 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


reveal the secret of your birth, he would overlook the 
reproach that was not a public one.” 

And then, among other wild impulses, Laurenz would 
have rushed back to the Flint Palace to hear from Peter 
Flint’s own lips the confirmation of his banishment. 

But his father explained to him that this could not be 
done ; that the Flint servants had already received orders 
not to admit him to the house. 

“And you knew this, and let me leave Theodora, without 
even bidding her good-by ! ” exclaimed the youth, in 
bitter anguish of heart. 

“ It would not have done to have had a scene ! ” replied 
the father ; and then by patient efforts and slow degrees 
he drew his distracted son on to the hotel and up to the 
seclusion of a private parlor. 

In the meantime, immediately on the departure of 
Pierre Levierre and his son, Peter Flint sent for his 
daughter Theodora to come to him in the library. 

When she came in, smiling and happy, he bade her sit 
down and listen, and then he told her of the strange dis- 
covery that had been made to him and that must arrest 
the intended marriage between Laurenz Levierre and 
herself. 

The despair of the girl was equal to that of the young 
man. So great was it, that her father did not dare just 
then to breathe to her the thought of another marriage, 
although he was fully resolved, in his own mind, that this 
marriage should take place on the very day that had been 
fixed for the first one. 

Peter Flint, as we said before, was a very hard man. 
He loved his daughters very little. He loved money very 
much. 

The means he now took to bring about his ends — the 
marriage of Theodora with old Pierre Levierre, on the 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


73 


evening that had been appointed for her marriage with 
Laurenz — were unscrupulous, harsh and cruel in the 
extreme. 

. She was told that her union with the wealthy old plan- 
ter was necessary to keep her father’s house from bank- 
ruptcy ; and when she raved in anguish at the thought of 
it, she was confined in an attic-room, lest in her desperation 
she should escape, and run away. 

Here she was isolated from all companionship, even 
from that of her beloved sister, from whom she had never 
before been separated. 

A rumor went through the house that she was indisposed. 

Even Dorothea believed this to be the truth, but could 
not understand why she herself was not permitted to 
attend her ailing sister. She feared that Theodora was 
suffering from some contagious disease, from which their 
father wished to guard the other members of the family. 

Meanwhile, the imprisoned girl could hear nothing of 
her lover ; whether he made any sort of effort to com- 
municate with her, she could not know. 

So the time passed in a terrible suspense, until the very 
day of the wedding arrived. 

On the morning of that day, the old negro woman, 
Suzette, who attended her in her room, brought a little note, 
whispering, 

“ Read it, and burn it, Miss Dora, for it is as much as 
my life is worth to have brought it.” 

The captive girl cast a grateful look upon her attendant, 
and opened the note. It was from her lover, and ran as 
follows : 

“ Soul of my soul ! I have been trying to see you, or to 
communicate with you, ever since we were betrayed into 
parting, by the treacherous hands of false relatives. I have 
learned the deeper treachery that is meditated for to-night. 


74 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


I have a plan for yonr deliverance. Consent to all that they 
require of you up to a certain point. Array yourself in 
bridal robes. Descend with the wedding-party to the 
drawing-room, and fear not; for then and there will I 
accomplish our deliverance.” 

That was all; hut it produced a great change in this 
woeful young face, which grew hopeful again. 

Later in the same day, her father came, and asked her 
if she was prepared to receive Pierre Levierre as her 
husband. 

She answered, evasively, that she was resigned to her 
fate, and would go before the minister with the others, if 
he pleased. 

He was so well satisfied with this reply, that he put into 
her hands a splendid set of diamonds, his own especial 
wedding-gift to her, which he begged her to wear on this 
occasion. 

Then he left her. 

But still, as a matter of precaution, he did not release 
her until late at night, when all the wedding-guests w r ere 
assembled in the drawing-room. 

Then he took her to the door of the best guest-chamber, 
which, upon that evening, had been converted into a 
dressing-room for the brides and bridesmaids. 

Here Suzette attended her, and dressed her for the 
bridal. Here, also, she met her sister, for the first time in 
ten days, and to all her anxious inquiries, answered only 
that her father had kept her isolated for his own purposes. 

The presence of the bridesmaids prevented any more 
especial explanations. 

As the moment approached for the party to descend 
into the drawing-room, the uneasiness of the unhappy 
girl grew to anguish. 

“We have not seen Laurenz once, since you were taken 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


75 


ill, Dora! But, I suppose, he will be sure to be on hand 
when we go downl” whispered her sister, as they were 
about to leave the room. 

“I suppose so,” replied the miserable bride, as she 
lingered behind the others. 

When they had all passed out, except Theodora, she 
felt some one touch her on the shoulder. She turned, and 
saw Suzette, who handed her a tiny note. She snatched 
it eagerly, took it to the wax-candle, on the bracket of the 
dressing-table, and read, written upon the outside, 

“ Open carefully .” 

She unfolded the missive slowly, and took from it a tiny, 
transparent capsule, in which a drop of some liquid was 
enclosed. She slipped the capsule in the hollow between 
the inside of her glove and the palm of her hand, and 
then she read the note. It was short, and as follows : 

“ Soul of my soul ! I planned to meet you, and deliver 
you, in the flesh, to-night. I have failed. I send you 
inside this the key that will unlock the prison of life. 
Come out, and meet me in the spirit. I will wait for you 
at the gate.” 

She pressed the note to her heart, and to her lips, and 
hurried, with bright smiles, to meet her attendants, who 
had turned back to look for her. 

They went down-stairs together. 

In the grand hall below, a group of gentlemen were 
waiting — groomsmen — who joined hands with bridesmaids, 
and led the way into the saloon — Albert Adair, who drew 
Dorothea to his side, and followed. Lastly, old Pierre 
Levierre, looking more like a satyr than ever, who drew 
Theodora’s delicate hand under his arm, and brought up 
the rear — this change of bridegrooms seemed unnoticed 
by those who had gone before. 

A line was made through the crowd that filled the 


76 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


gorgeously-decorated and brilliantly -lighted saloon for the 
bridal-party to pass up and form before the clerical group, 
on the rug. 

The ceremony was performed by a bishop, assisted by 
two other ministers. 

The opening exhortation and prayers were read for both 
together. 

Then the special questions were put to Alfred and 
Dorothea, who duly answered them, and the bride was 
given away by the father, and the ring was put on her 
finger by the groom, and their mutual vows were made. 

Next came the turn of Pierre and Theodora; but no 
sooner had he touched her hand than, with a terrible 
shriek, she fell at his feet ! 

Her sister stooped in alarm, and her father in rage, to 
raise her from the floor ; but she was already dead. 

The double marriage-ceremony went no further that 
night. 

The utmost confusion prevailed. People, who had 
been sufficiently surprised and perplexed, by seeing the 
father stand as bridegroom, instead of the son, were now 
at their wits’ ends to know what had been the cause of 
this tragic ending of the wedding-party. 

A young chemist, who happened to be among the 
wedding-guests, and one of the first who had flown to the 
assistance of the fallen bride, detected a faint odor of 
bitter almonds about the beautiful but still lips, and 
whispered, 

“ Prussic acid” 

A servant was despatched in haste for the nearest doctor. 

In rushing out of the front door, he stumbled, and fell 
headlong over a prostrate form. Rising with difficulty, he 
called others to his assistance. 

They lifted between them the body over which he 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


77 


had fallen, and bore it into the hall, where the brilliant 
light fell upon and discovered the cold, dead face of 
Laurenz Levierre. 

The same faint odor of bitter almonds hung about his 
dark moustache. 

“Prussic acid,” said the young chemist again, as he bent 
over the dead. 

Yes, he had planned, and he had achieved the deliver- 
ance of both I He had sent his love the key to unlock the 
prison of her material life, and he had waited at the gate 
to meet her ! 

The wedding-party broke up in consternation. The 
wedding-guests hurried home in dismay. 

The dead were laid out in the drawing-room — he in the 
suit in which he died, she in her bridal-dress. 

The coroner’s inquest sat the next day. The verdict — 
Suicide. 

The lovers were buried side by side in the old Congres- 
sional Cemetery, on the eastern side of the city. 

As soon as the funeral was over, all attention was con- 
centrated upon the condition of Dorothea. 

On the night of those tragic bridals she had been seized 
with a succession of convulsions, that her attendants sup- 
posed to be nothing worse than hysterics, and hoped would 
yield to the sedatives they administered. 

But it was not so. 

Before morning she was near the point of death with 
brain fever, and though she came out of it with her life, 
she never recovered her reason. 

Poor Doe lingered a few weeks in hopeless dementia, 
and then passed quietly to eternal peace. 

And what of those two insane old men whose passion 
and ambition had wrought all this ruin ? Did they ever 
suffer from the pangs of remorse ? 


78 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


None ever knew ! 

A few weeks after this domestic tragedy Pierre Levierre, 
while still sojourning at the Indian Queen Hotel, went off 
suddenly in a fit of apoplexy. 

His remains were interred in the Congressional Ceme- 
tery, not far from those of the hapless lovers, and his large 
fortune went to distant relations, whom he had hated all 
his life. 

As for Peter Flint, broken in spirit and in fortune, he 
could make no sort of stand against the impending ruin. 

The financial storm burst in a few days and swept away 
every vestige of his property. 

His princely palace was sold under the hammer, and 
bought, just as it stood, with all its furniture, books and 
pictures, by another wealthy man, who had intended to 
make it his winter home. 

But after spending a few months he suddenly left the 
house, with all his family, and put it in the hands of an 
agent, to rent, lease, or sell, furnished, or unfurnished, as 
he might be able to do. 

The subsequent history of the old Flint Palace, with its 
frequent change of tenants and its emptiness and abandon- 
ment, is already knov/n to the reader. 

Of old Peter Flint’s fate nothing certain was ever 
known. 

He disappeared. 

Some said that he left Washington and drifted into a 
Northern almshouse, where, under an assumed name, he 
lived to an extreme age, and then died and was buried in 
the potters’ field. 

But this was not proven. 

Such was the substance of the tale told by the old 
crone at Milly’s winter fire. 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 


70 


An hour after Peggy Stone’s departure, Mr. Ruthven 
came down to breakfast, in full dress and in a great hurry, 
to snatch a cup of coffee before going to attend the Presi- 
dent’s New Year’s reception. 

“ What was the matter with you last night, dear Milly ? 
Did you fall asleep and drop off your chair, or what? ” he 
inquired, as he stood by the table with the cup in his 
hand. 

“ I had a dreadful dream, Adolphe ! There is too much 
of it to tell now. I will wait until we can sit down quietly 
together this evening,” she answered, evasively. 

He kissed her good-by, and went away to spend the 
whole day in making New Year’s calls, beginning at the 
executive mansion. 

That night, after tea, when they were seated at the fire 
of a cozy little parlor, back of the long drawing-room, 
Milly told Ruthven all the particulars of her terrible 
experience of the past night. 

“ I called it a dream,” she said, “but it was a horrible 
panorama of spectral visions enough to curdle the blood 
and craze the brain of the strongest man ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! my dear love : it was a clear case of night- 
mare ! ” said Ruthven, with a laugh. 

“ How is it, then, that every one, who has slept in that 
room on old year night at the hour of its passing into 
the new, has had that same night-mare ? ” inquired Milly. 

“ Oh, ‘ ask me something easier ! 9 ” he exclaimed. 

“ How is it that my vision, or dream, happened to 
repeat, in the phantom wedding, the tragic incidents of 
that real one, of which I had never even heard ? ” she 
inquired. 

“ But did it ? ” he asked. 

“You shall hear,” she said, and then she told him 
the fearful story that she had heard from Peggy Stone. 


80 THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 

“ Now how do you account for that ? ” she demanded. 

“My dear Milly, I do not pretend to account for it! 
There are many mysteries in nature and in life that we 
cannot comprehend, yet which are not to be set down as 
supernatural for that reason — but what I do comprehend 
is, that you cannot hereafter occupy these premises in 
peace.” 

“ No, indeed, I cannot, Adolphe ; but, oh, the sacrifice 
of giving them up ! ” 

“Fortunately there need be no sacrifice! Now listen. 
By the merest chance, I met our agent, Kent, at the Secre- 
tary of State’s reception to-day. He told me, with a smile, 
that I had secured this property in good time, for that 
only within a few days past the agent of a company who 
wished to erect a first-class hotel here had offered very 
handsome terms for the purchase of it. He said he had 
then informed this negotiator that the place was leased 
for a term of years. Well, he said that only yesterday the 
man had returned with the offer of a very handsome 
bonus to the tenant if he would give up the lease. Mr. 
Kent promised to mention it to me, though without hope 
of success, and he did.” 

“Oh! Adolphe, how providential! You will give up 
the lease at once, will you not ? ” 

“ Certainly ! I refused to-day, but to-morrow I will go 
and retract my refusal.” 


Ruthven kept his word. The old Flint Palace was 
taken off his hands at a great profit to himself. 

The very next day the young pair returned to their 
apartments at the Indian Queen Hotel, where they con- 
tented themselves to remain during the winter. 

The next spring Ruthven bought a new piece of ground 
and contracted for the building of an elegant new man- 


THE PHANTOM WEDDING. 81 

sion, “ that they could be sure had never had a tragedy, 
and could never have a ghost,” as Milly said. 

While the builders were at work, the young pair made 
a summer tour, but returned in the autumn and took 
possession of their new house, in time to extend its 
hospitalities to little Adolphe Rogers Ruthven, junior, on 
his arrival in this world. 

A vast hotel now stands on the site of the Old Flint 
Palace. 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE 


BY FRANCES HENS II AW BADEN. 

^ T HATE her! I positively do!” bitterly exclaimed 

1 Evelyn Monroe, while she snapped her black eyes, 
and set her lips tightly. 

“ Why, I did not know you were well enough acquainted 
with May Rochester to hate her. But, why ? How has 
she won, or merited, your enmity? She is generally 
beloved, I believe. A most conclusive proof to you of her 
loveliness, should be her having won your brother’s love ! ” 
replied Mrs. Mason. 

“ It is just that I hate her for. She has won my brother 
so entirely away from us — Harry was the most devoted 
of sons and brothers, before this girl, with her arts, 
bewitched him. To think that Harry, having arrived at 
the age of thirty, and knowing as many girls as he has, 
without ever being in love, should be caught now . Yes, 
I know she is just as artful as can be, and she just entrapped 
him ! I know she did ! ” 

“ Oh, Evelyn, dear, do not feel so ! I am sure , if you 
knew May, you would love her. She is very beautiful, 
and just as lovely as possible.” 

“ Lovely ! Then your ideas of loveliness, and mine, are 
very different. This girl, I know, is by no means gentle ; 
on the contrary, quite masculine in her taste and habits. 
In fact, is quite bold, I am sure. Why, she has her dogs 
and horse — can ride anything that a saddle can be put 
( 82 ) 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 83 

on — handles an oar perfectly, and is quite an expert swim- 
mer ! Now you know, such a woman is not calculated to 
make a man happy, or his home comfortable ! ” 

“ Indeed, Evelyn, I do not know it. May’s home is the 
loveliest place I know, and hers is the spirit that rules it. 
She is a devoted daughter, and, I assure you, her parents 
are loth enough to part with her. She is an only daughter. 
Her brothers idolize her, and it is from them she has 
learned those accomplishments that you dislike. But, 
believe me, if you will give her a chance, she can preside 
over her husband’s home with grace and dignity, and, 
moreover, provide everything necessary to make it com- 
fortable and attractive.” 

“ Indeed, she shall not have a chance. Mamma and I 
have managed Harry’s home, and in every way to please 
him so far ; and, I assure you, we shall not resign it to a 
girl like her ! ” 

“ Well, well ! we will not quarrel over May Rochester, 
Evie — only I am very sorry you feel thus.” 

“ Just wait a moment. I want to tell you. You know 
Harry always used to take me to the opera whenever I 
asked him. Well, last night he positively refused. Would 
not that alone made you almost hate the girl ? ” 

“ But you were at the opera ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; he bought the tickets, and sent Will Moreton 
to escort me.” 

“Evie, have you forgotten a time when you took a 
brother from his sisters ? A proof that she has not deprived 
you of his care and love, is his giving you the desired 
enjoyment. Well, I must say good-by, now! And do 
try, Evie, to be a little more kindly inclined towards May ; 
or, take my word, you will regret it in the future.” 

Evelyn Monroe was the only and widowed sister of 
Harry Carleton. She had always been a great pet with 
5 


84 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 


her brother, who, on the death of her husband, cordially 
invited her, with her baby-girl, to share the home that, by 
his own exertion, he had won, and placed his mother at 
the head. 

For over four years, their lovely home had been one of 
perfect harmony and love, Harry trying, in every possible 
way, to comfort Evelyn in her sorrow. Six months pre- 
vious to the opening of our little story, Harry had met 
May Rochester; and almost immediately the beautiful 
girl had taken complete possession of his heart. But I 
must tell you of their meeting. 

It was a cold day in December. Over the ice-coated 
pavement, cautiously picking her way, came an aged 
woman, miserably clad, and carrying on her arm a large 
basket of little notions. May was out that afternoon, and 
lightly tripping along, her cheeks all aglow from the brac- 
ing air. She was approaching, when the poor woman, 
starting forward to present her goods, slipped, and fell 
with a groan, directly in front of our heroine. 

May tried to raise her; but she found that the poor 
creature had fainted. 

In vain May glanced up and down in search of assist- 
ance. The street was quite deserted. She was about to 
pull the door-bell of a house opposite, when she saw a 
gentleman turning the corner. Observing the situation, he 
crossed over, and, as May raised her lovely eyes appeal- 
ingly to his, he asked : 

“ How can I assist you?” 

“ Please ring that bell, and help me get this poor woman 
in, if they will permit it ! She fell on the ice. 

“ Now, if you will be kind enough to get me a carriage, 
I will be very thankful,” May said, when they had been 
allowed to bring the woman in, and place her on a com- 
fortable lounge. 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 85 

By the time Harry Carleton, for he it was, returned, the 
sufferer had sufficiently recovered to direct them to her 
home. 

When she was placed in the carriage, May said : 

“ I shall go with her ; I fear that she is very poor. I 
must see that she does not suffer any more than from 
pain.” 

u Then, J shall, with your permission, go, too. It is not 
a desirable locality for a young lady, unattended.” 

May hesitated an instant, then raised her eyes to 
Harry’s. The truth and honesty she found there reas- 
sured her, and with a beautiful smile, she said : 

“ You are very kind. I am glad to have you come.” 

When he was seated beside her, Harry drew out his 
card, and said, laughingly : 

“We must manage an introduction.” 

May glanced at the card, and replied : 

“ Your name is not unfamiliar. Mine is May Roches- 
ter. I am visiting my brother, now. My home is out 
of town.” 

“At Elmwood ? ” Harry asked. 

“Yes.” 

“ Then, Miss Rochester, we should not be entire stran- 
gers. Your brother, the one in Europe, and myself, were 
classmates. I had a letter from him only three days ago,” 
Harry said. 

Out went May’s little hand, as she replied : 

“ Indeed ; then, I am very glad to know you, Mr. Carle- 
ton. Dear Harvey ! It is a long time since I saw him. 
Only think — six years. I was quite a little girl when he 
left us.” 

And so they chatted on a subject so dear to both until 
the carriage stopped, and the driver called out : 

“ Here we are, sir ! ” 


$6 HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 

A most miserable place, truly. And Harry, turning to 
May, said : 

“You see, I was right. And now, Miss Rochester, I 
feel sure you will be coming this way again, so I must beg 
you to promise me not to come alone. Either command 
mine, or some other’s attendance.” 

So it was in looking after the poor woman’s comfort, 
Harry and May met several times. The sprained ankle, 
though causing great pain, was really not an unfortunate 
affair. It resulted in a greater profit than a month’s sales 
from the basket of notions. 

When, a week after, May returned to her home, five 
miles out of town, Harry accompanied her. 

As he lifted her from the sleigh, before her door, she 
said: 

“ Now, come in, and see mamma ! She is ready to love 
one of Harvey’s friends ! ” 

“Thank you; and is Harvey’s sister so kindly dis- 
posed?” Harry asked, laughingly; but there was an 
earnestness in his look that May could not fail to under- 
stand. And he added : 

“ If I come in now , Miss Rochester, I hope it will be the 
beginning of many happy hours spent at Elmwood. But, 
you must first answer me a question candidly, please. 
Shall I be trespassing on any other’s ground ? ” 

May looked as if she did not understand the question, 
and Harry said : 

“ To be plain, is there any other, who has a prior claim 
to your time, or — ” Harry hesitated here — and May, with 
a merry laugh, answered : 

“ Oh, I know now ! You want to ask, have I a lover? 
No, indeed ! I have just a few months ago left school. 
This is my first season out. So do come in to see Harvey’s 
parents ! ” 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 87 

What more needed Harry then? He went and con- 
tinued to go. 

After he had been absent from home four or five even- 
ings, Evelyn, never for a moment thinking anything hut 
some business engagement detained her brother, asked : 

“ Harry, what is it that detains you in the evenings ? 
We miss you dreadfully. Where are you? ” 

A moment elapsed before Harry replied; then had a 
thunderbolt exploded in the room, she could not have 
been more surprised, when he said : 

“ I spend the evenings, when not with you and mother, 
with my future wife.” 

Recovering somewhat from the shock, Evelyn said : 

“No, no, Harry, you are not in earnest! Oh, surely, 
mother and I have made your home all that heart could 
need ! You do not mean to bring any one here, to take 
our place in your heart, and home! ” 

“ Evie, for years I have been looking out entirely for the 
happiness of others ; now I think it is time I considered 
my own. You will still have your place in both my heart 
and home. But my wife, Evie, must come first in both. 
You should understand this, dear, and not feel hurt.” 

At first Harry was gentle and persuasive. But after a 
time, when he found no change in Evelyn’s feelings, that 
she was still unkind, and exerted over her mother an un- 
favorable influence, he spoke, firmly and decidedly, giving 
Evelyn to understand, if she could not make up her mind 
to welcome his bride, and contribute to the happiness of 
their home, she would have to make hers elsewhere ! 

Evelyn’s means were very limited. So she concluded 
to be quiet at least, and put on a semblance, if not of 
pleasure, at her brother’s coming happiness, at least content. 
She went with her mother to call on May, a few weeks 
previous to the marriage. 


88 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE, 


The old lady’s heart warmed directly towards the beau- 
tiful, loving girl, and May would have won a daughter’s 
place in her heart, had not Evelyn’s influence still pre- 
vailed. 

Of course there were busy tongues enough to carry to 
May the state of feeling in Harry’s home. So when she 
went there as a bride, she was neither surprised nor dis- 
appointed at the lack of affection that greeted her coming. 

Many times there were looks and almost indescribable 
little actions of Evelyn’s which might have, and were well 
calculated to provoke a just resentment, had not May re- 
solved to bear all in silence, and let no word of complaint 
reach her husband’s ear. She trusted to the future and 
God’s help to win her way to the hearts of Harry’s mother 
and sister. 

There was enough to employ her time and thoughts in 
the beautiful home Harry had fixed for her. Like her 
own it was in the country. She had her birds, horse and 
dog. She could while away her husband’s absent hours 
with her music, books and flowers. She had told Harry 
she did not care to assume the responsibility of the house- 
keeping yet a while. And Harry was content, knowing 
first, that it would give her time more to him, and likewise 
produce a better feeling with his mother and Evelyn. 

Still with all May’s trying to w r in the love she craved so 
much, she made poor progress. But one little heart 
responded to hers with a full tide of love — Evelyn’s 
daughter, a lovely child of five years, little Avis, or Birdie, 
as she was generally called. Despite Evelyn’s efforts to 
the contrary, Birdie would follow May around, lingering 
ever beside her, twittering, chirping and singing, perfectly 
happy to be with “ My May,” as she called her. 

“ Why do you follow her round so ? Why not stay here 
with mamma ? ” Evelyn asked, her voice full of reproach. 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 89 

“ Mamma, I can’t help it : I love her ! I love her ! ” 
Birdie, lisping, answered, the tears welling up into her 
great beautiful blue eyes. 

“ But why do you love her ? I do not,” the angry voice 
asked. 

The blue eyes were raised full of surprise to her mother’s, 
and Birdie answered : 

“ She loved me.” This sweet answer might have softened 
a heart less bitter than Evelyn’s. It only silenced the 
angry tongue, and she was turning away when the little 
one said, coaxingly : 

“Mamma, ’deed my May would give me anything in 
the world, she loves me so. But I don’t want nothin’, 
only to be with her, that’s all.” 

With an impatient gesture the mother turned off, and 
Birdie flew again to her love ! 

Thus nearly a year passed, and May was happy and 
content with love such as Harry and Birdie lavished upon 
her. At times she would think she was gaining her way 
to the mother’s heart ; but a look from Evelyn, when there 
was any show of affection, was sufficient to make the old 
lady hide away any love that might have stolen into her 
heart. 

A lovely May day, our May had been occupied very 
much with visitors, so little Birdie was left to her own 
pleasure-seeking. When leaving, May’s friends prevailed 
on her to accompany them to the station, about a quarter 
of a mile from her home. On the way it was necessary to 
cross quite a large stream. . This had been a favorite resort 
of Birdie’s. Either with Harry or May or both, she had 
frequently been to sit on the bridge and fish. When May 
was leaving the house she had called for Birdie to come, 
but had been told by one of the servants that she had 
gone down the road to get wild flowers with some of the 


90 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 


neighboring children. What was her surprise and great 
anxiety to hear Birdie’s voice as she neared the bridge ; 
and directly after to see the child seated on the railing 
with three or four others! She started forward, when 
Birdie, seeing her, called out a welcome and raised her 
hand to throw kisses to May ; another instant and she was 
struggling in the water. 

With a wild cry May darted to the water side, followed 
by her friends. They immediately saw her purpose, as 
she threw off her hat and shawl. 

“ May ! May ! You must not ! Oh, remember ! ” one 
cried. 

“ God help me ! or she will surely drown ! I must save 
her, or go with her ! ” May answered, as she plunged in. 

With ease she swam to the child, notwithstanding her 
heavy clothes. Birdie was just rising again to the surface, 
as May reached her. Still sensible, she clasped her arms 
about her neck, and May with a prayer of thanksgiving 
turned towards the shore. She made a few strokes, when 
with terror she felt the burden too much. Fast her strength 
was failing. More feeble became her efforts. The screams 
of the terrified friends at last drew some men from the 
neighboring field. Two dashed in and waded out just in 
time to receive the child and support May, who, ere she 
reached the shore, was, to all appearance, lifeless. Among 
the crowd that had quickly collected, one had presence of 
mind enough to summon the family physician, living near. 

Before the men arrived with their lovely burden, Evelyn 
and her mother had heard the terrible news. 

Dr. Macon, who knew how little May had been appreci- 
ated and loved by her husband’s relatives, said, as he 
handed Birdie to her mother’s arms : 

“ There, madam, take your child, saved by that noble 
little woman at a fearful cost ! ” 


HOW SHE WON THEIR LOVE. 


91 


“ ^No ! oh, no! You do not mean it! Doctor, she will 
not, she must not die ! ” Evelyn cried, stricken with terror 
and full of remorse. 

“ God alone knows. I have great fear,” Dr. Macon 
answered, shaking his head gravely. 

Harry returned, to find his darling, that he had left so 
well and bright in the morning, so full of love, now lying 
unmindful of his presence. If the beautiful eyes opened, 
it was only with an unmeaning look. One fainting spell 
followed another, until she sank at last into exhaustion, 
that appeared almost like death itself. All through the 
long, fearful night they watched — Evelyn with a heart 
from which every trace of jealousy and ill will had been 
driven ! How fervently she prayed that May should be 
spared, that, by the most devoted love, she could atone for 
the past, and prove her gratitude. At last the dreadful 
night was spent. With the early dawn, a feeble, tiny wail 
was heard. A few hours more, when a frail life was 
breathed out on earth, and heaven had gained another 
angel ! 

Very gradually, oh, so slowly to the anxious, loving 
hearts, the childless young mother came back to health 
and strength. 

When it was thought prudent to bring Birdie in to see 
her preserver, a frown gathered on Harry’s face as May 
pressed the little one to her heart. 

Loving lips were kissing the clouds away, and May 
whispered : 

“ Don’t, dear ! You will not regret that a widowed heart 
has still her only child ! How lonely she would have been 
had it been otherwise ! We have each other, Harry, and 
our angel boy is not lost to us, nor very far away ! Oft- 
times he seems so near, I almost am sure his little arms 
clasped my neck. I feel his breath upon my cheek.” 


92 


HOW SHE WON THEIE LOVE. 


A few weeks after May’s recovery, Mrs. Mason, who for 
several months had been absent from the State, called to 
see the Carletons. 

Noticing the loving intimacy between May and Evelyn, 
when alone with the latter, she said, laughingly : 

“Ah, I see, notwithstanding all her masculine accom- 
plishments, her odious habits, you have found her gentle, 
generous, and loving ; and you love her dearly, do you not, 
Evie?” 

“Ah, I do, indeed. Heaven bless her ! I doubt if we 
had been sisters by birth should I love her so truly as 
now ! Ah, you little know what she is to me ! ” And then 
Evelyn told her friend the story of May’s courage and de- 
votion, adding : “ And now you know how doubly dear 
she is to mother and me, and why we love her thus I ” 


UGLY NETTIE; 

OR, 

WHAT IS TO BECOME OE HER? 

BY FRANCES IIENSHAW BADEN. 

^ ^ WT OULD you ever believe they were sisters, or that 
V V one drop of the same blood flowed in their veins ? ” 

“ They certainly are more unlike than I ever saw chil- 
dren of the same parents.” 

“ I think nature was most truly dealing in extremes 
at the birth of those children.” 

“ Yes, Louise, your older daughters, Rose and Lilly, are 
as beautiful, fair, and bright as the lovely flowers whose 
names they bear, while my poor namesake is very plain.” 

“ Plain ! Why she is a •positive fright I Oh, aunty ! 
what can I do with her ? Really, the convent is the only 
place for her. As to finding a husband for her, there is 
not the slightest chance. Dear, dear! to think of my 
having such an ugly child ! Who does she take after ? 
All the women of our family have been noted for their 
fairness.” 

“ My dear Louise, Nettie is like her father.” 

“ Oh, aunt ! Why he is a handsome man ! ” 

“Yes, my dear, but he would not make a beautiful 
woman. Nettie has certainly his eyes — you must admit 
this— and they are very fine. Perhaps they look a little 

( 93 ) 


94 


UGLY NETTIE. 


too large, and have a startled expression ; but when her 
face fills out they will not look so.” 

“ Oh ! but her nose is so large and her mouth so wide ! ” 

“ Louise, her face is very small, and I hope that will 
grow ; while her nose and mouth may not.” 

“And the dark, sallow complexion ; the miserable form, 
so long and thin, and so very awkward! There is no 
hope of Nettie ever being anything pleasant or fair to look 
upon,” the mother said, with a sigh. 

“ My dear, time works wonders ; yet it is hardly possible 
that Nettie can ever be other than a plain-looking girl.” 

“ Oh, dear ! what is to become of her ? If we had a for- 
tune to leave her it would not matter so much. Now 
Rose and Lilly have a fortune in their lovely faces.” 

Just here the sound of young voices came through the 
open window, and Mrs. Norton looked out to see the three 
sisters on the lawn beyond. 

“ Go on, Nettie, and tell William to bring out the balls 
and mallets,” called Rose, and aunt Henrietta listened for 
the reply. 

“ Oh, Rose ! I am so tired ! Let me rest a bit, or have 
Lilly go. I have been running all the afternoon; and, 
don’t you know, I went two miles to get these ferns for 
you,” answered a low, musical voice. 

Withdrawing from sight, yet straining her ear to catch 
Rose’s reply, the kind heart was shocked and deeply 
grieved as the cruel words reached her : 

“ You hateful, ugly thing ! You ought to try to do some- 
thing to please folks and make them like you. You get 
uglier every day ! ” 

“ Yes, you do /” chimed in the younger Lilly. 

“I know I am ugly, Rose; but I can’t help it. God 
made you beautiful, and for that great gift you ought to be 
good, and not cruel,” the sweet voice replied. 


UGLY NETTIE. 


95 


“ For shame, Rose ! ” called out a stern voice. “ Do not 
mind her, Nettie. ‘Pretty is as pretty does/ grandma 
always says ; and if you do not look sharp, Nettie’s sweet 
voice and gentle heart will make folks forget all about 
your beauty, Miss Rose.” 

Aunt Henrietta peeped out to see a handsome youth of 
about eighteen standing beside Nettie, while Rose, 
with an angry, flushed face and pouting lips, stood 
apart. 

“ Louise, who is this young man with the girls ? ” 

“ Why, aunty, that is Gerald Armstrong. Do you not 
remember your old playmate, Frank, now General Arm- 
strong? Well, his son. They are our next neighbors.” 

“Louise, a while ago you were wondering what you 
should do with Nettie. Will you give her to me?” 

“ Surely you are not in earnest ! You — having so much 
love for the beautiful — how is it you are willing to burden 
yourself with poor Nettie? ” Mrs. Bartlett asked, with great 
apparent surprise. 

“ Yes, I do love beauty. Possibly I may have discov- 
ered something in Nettie that you have not. Her disposi- 
tion, for instance — her voice. At any rate, I am willing, 
nay, anxious, to take Nettie. I came here with the inten- 
tion of inducing you to give me one of your daughters, 
and my little namesake is the one I wish for.” 

“ Oh, aunt ! it is because she is named for you ! You 
think it a duty, perhaps.” 

“ No, Louise ; I assure you ’tis not so. Had Rose been 
my namesake I should not have begged for her. I want 
the little girl with the gentle heart and sweet, soothing 
voice. May I have her ? ” 

“ Certainly, as far as I am concerned. However, we will 
talk about it further this evening when her father is home. 
Mr. Bartlett may not be willing. Strange as it may seem, 


96 


UGLY NETTIE. 


he is very fond of Nettie; more so than of either the 
others.” 

Mrs. Norton did not think it at all strange. Those 
few moments spent in watching the children on the lawn 
had given her sufficient insight of the dispositions of 
each. 

Mr. Bartlett listened with a very grave face to Mrs. Nor- 
ton’s proposition, saying : 

11 How can I part from her? Now mother there has 
two ; she could spare you one. But Nettie is mine. She 
clings entirely to me, while the others — well, I suppose it 
is quite natural — they seem only to care for mother. 
What shall I do when those terrible spells of headache 
come, without Nettie’s gentle, soothing hand ? Why, there 
seems to be a healing power in those little fingers.” 

Mrs. Bartlett would have decidedly opposed the plan if 
she had had the slightest hope of her aunt taking her 
favorite Rose. She had looked forward to this visit from 
Mrs. Norton — who was a childless widow and quite 
wealthy — with the anticipation of a proposal of this kind. 
But never for a moment did she suppose ugly Nettie would 
be the favored one. 

Mrs. Norton did not gain the father’s consent until she 
had obtained a private interview, in which she gave him 
her views candidly with regard to his favorite child. 

It was decided that Nettie should not be acquainted 
with the proposed change until Mrs. Norton’s visit was 
near its close. In the meantime her aunt would have a 
chance of winning the child’s affection, and thus soften in 
a degree the pain she would suffer in parting from her 
father. 

Gerald Armstrong was a daily visitor during the time 
he was home from college on his vacation. 

He was a general favorite in the Bartlett family. Mrs. 


UGLY NETTIE. 97 

Norton, however, had found it impossible to decide of 
which of the girls he seemed most fond. 

Rose, who was just sixteen, considered herself quite a 
grown young lady, consequently received Gerald’s atten- 
tions as a matter of course. Yet to Mrs. Norton there 
seemed scarcely any difference in his manner towards 
Lilly, who was two years younger. With Nettie, how- 
ever, there was a tender solicitude, a constant watchfulness, 
that was very noticeable. Yes, Nettie was sure of an 
earnest defender whenever Gerald was by. 

Mrs. Norton noticed, too, that the plain, dark face would 
grow bright and almost pretty at Gerald’s approach. She 
felt quite certain the little twelve-year-old girl was deeply 
attached to the handsome youth. In fact, he came next 
to her father in her affection. 

Mrs. Norton’s visit was nearing its close. During the 
two months spent with Nettie she had succeeded in attach- 
ing the child very warmly to herself. Indeed, they were 
almost inseparable companions. But when the time came 
for telling of the proposed separation, Nettie’s grief was 
wild and inconsolable at the thought of leaving her father. 
At length, with promises of daily letters and an occasional 
visit, she was induced to listen with some degree of interest 
to the plans for her happiness. The scene between Nettie 
and Gerald, when she told him of her going, was both 
pathetic and amusing. 

“ To take you, Nettie ? ” Gerald asked, in amazement. 
“ I can’t, to save me, imagine why she wants you. Why 
don’t she take Rose, or Lilly? They are so pretty. 
Strangers will like them. But you, Nettie, she had better 
let remain here, with those that know and love you.” 

“ But oh, Gerald, only two folks here love me. Just you and 
papa. Mamma tries to, but she can’t love anything much 
that is not sweet and pretty. I love aunty dearly, and I 


98 


UGLY NETTIE. 


would go gladly if I could take you and papa along. In- 
deed it almost breaks my heart to think of leaving you ! 
Don’t forget me, Gerald, please don’t ! ” 

“ Never fear that, little girl. Now this is a bad piece of 
business! If I thought you would be happy, Nettie, I 
would not mind it. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I 
shall write to you often. Now, when you get awfully tired, 
you write and tell me so, and I shall come right after you. 
Let me see. I can’t do that , though, until I am my own 
man. Try to stick it out for four years, Nettie. I can 
come then, and bring you home with me. Mother and 
father, having no daughter, will be very glad to have a 
little girl in the house. Now, that will be jolly, won’t 
it?” 

“But oh, Gerald! you forget. Your folks might like to 
have a beautiful little girl ! They admire Rose and Lilly, 
you know, so much.” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! I did forget that. Now that is too bad. 
It about spoils that plan. You see, I am used to you, 
Nettie, and I forget all the time that you are — ” 

“So ugly. Don’t mind saying it, Gerald. I don’t mind 
hearing it. I am so used to it.” 

“Well, Nettie, I’ll fix it. I will just tell them if they 
don’t like and keep my little girl, they can’t keep me ! So 
when you get so lonesome you can’t stand it any longer, 
write to me.” 

Mrs. Bartlett and her aunt, who were both in hearing 
during this conversation, were somewhat surprised; the 
latter observing, “ I thought it was Rose that Gerald was 
so fond of.” 

“ Of course he is,” answered the fond, proud mother. 
“ How could it be otherwise ? But he pities poor Nettie 
very much, and is very kind to her. He is so sorry for 
her now . He is trying to comfort her. That is all.” 


UGLY NETTIE. 


99 


The hour of parting came. The good-byes were given, 
and Mrs. Norton was alone with her proteg6. Never in 
her life did Nettie look plainer. The only redeeming 
feature — her eyes — were swollen and red from excessive 
weeping. 

With a sigh Mrs. Norton thought there was very little 
hope of Nettie ever being other than very plain, if not 
decidedly ugly. 

******* 

After a few weeks of homesickness Nettie grew cheerful 
and happy, and very much delighted with her western 
home. 

Three years passed rapidly by. Nettie was fifteen, when 
one day she ran in, saying, “Aunty, you know Miss Ames, 
our teacher, is going to leave us. Well, she wants every 
girl in our class to have their picture taken for her. 
Can I?” 

The desired permission was given, Mrs. Norton assisting 
Nettie with her toilette and accompanying her to the 
photographer’s. 

A few days after, when the pictures were received, Nettie 
gazed at them, her face expressing mingled pleasure and 
surprise, as she asked : 

“Aunty, can this be me ? Is it 'possible that I look at all 
like this picture ? ” 

“ Why, my child, what ails you ? Can you not see it is 
a very good likeness, indeed ? ” 

“ Not at all flattered, aunty ? ” 

“ I think not, Nettie.” 

“ But oh, aunty, where is the big nose ? Where is the 
wide mouth ? ” 

“ There still, my child. But the poor little thin face is 
gone, and in its place plump, rosy cheeks, and bright eyes 
and smiling lips.” 

6 


100 


UGLY NETTIE. 


“And, aunty, now ugly Nettie is no more, is she?” 
eagerly asked the delighted child. 

“ No, my dear, she has been passing away very gradu- 
ally, but I am quite certain is gone now,” Mrs. Norton 
answered, pressing her lips to the rosy ones held up to her. 

“Oh, thank the blessed Lord! And you too, aunty! 
Oh, I am so, so glad. So very happy,” Nettie cried, dancing 
and clapping her hands. 

“ Oh, my child, why should this knowledge make you so 
joyful ? Why do you prize beauty thus ? ” 

“ No, no, I do not prize beauty. I only dread that ugli- 
ness that deprived me of the love my sisters won. Yes, 
aunty ; deprived me of my mother’s love. No ; ’tis not 
beauty I crave — only love!” Nettie said, her voice trem- 
bling with emotion, as she sank to a seat beside her aunt 
and hid the tearful eyes on her shoulder. 

“May I send a picture home to papa and Gerald, 
aunty ? ” she asked a few moments after. 

“Not yet, dear. This might not compare favorably 
with the beautiful living pictures there. Wait a while 
longer, and I will carry a smiling, speaking picture to the 
loved ones, that I think will give them a very happy sur- 
prise.” 

* * * * * * * 

When Nettie had been away from her old home five 
years, her father grew very anxious to see his darling 
child, and wrote to Mrs. Norton entreating a visit. In 
reply to this came the news that they were on the eve of 
starting for Europe to remain two years. As it was im- 
possible for her to bring Nettie to him, she urged his 
coming to them in New York. 

When Mr. Bartlett returned from this visit, there was a 
happy change in his look and manner that his wife and 
daughters could not understand. 


UGLY NETTIE. 


101 


He was overwhelmed with questions about Nettie. 

“ Has she grown very much ? And, most of all, has she 
improved any ? ” asked the mother. 

“ Has she grown any the less ugly ? you mean, mamma,” 
Rose said. 

“ Scarcely, or papa would have told us that immedi- 
ately,” chimed in Lilly. 

“ Nettie has grown very much. She is taller than either 
of her sisters. She has improved very much, and is quite 
an accomplished young lady. About her ‘personal attrac- 
tions you would hardly consider me a proper judge. To 
me Nettie never was ugly.” 

“Ah, well, we understand how it is. Aunty will en- 
deavor to cultivate Nettie’s mind to its highest capacity, 
thinking, possibly, its brilliancy may either illumine the 
very plain features, or serve to make one forget it,” Miss 
Rose said, with a toss of her pretty head. 

Gerald Armstrong was very much disappointed at not 
being able to see Nettie before her departure. She had 
written informing him of the proposed visit. But it was 
impossible for him to get away at that time without very 
materially interfering with his course of studies. 

“Never mind; I shall see her next spring. After I 
have graduated I shall spend a season in the hospitals of 
Paris, before I put up my shingle here as M. D. And 
while over there I shall certainly hunt up my little friend,” 
Gerald said. 

Rose and her mother had long since made up their 
minds that Gerald had no other feeling other than a warm 
friendship for either her or Lilly. And so Rose had con- 
soled herself with the ardent devotion of a young lawyer. 
Lilly was looking forward to this union with deep interest, 
as mamma was determined to keep her in the background 
until Rose was off her hands. 


102 


UGLY NETTIE. 


Nearly two more years had passed, and Nettie began to 
yearn for home. It was her constant theme of conversa- 
tion. She made many warm friends, both in France and 
Italy. Mrs. Norton often wondered that some one of her 
earnest admirers had not succeeded in making a favorable 
impression. One day she ventured to intercede in behalf 
of a young nobleman who had entreated her kind offices in 
his behalf. “ I know, dear aunt,” Nettie replied, “ that he is 
a young gentleman, of whose love any girl might be proud. 
Handsome, intelligent, really fascinating, and very rich — 
in every way calculated to make a woman happy. In- 
deed, the most eligible young gentleman I know. But I 
cannot give him any warmer feeling than sincere respect.” 

“ Oh, Nettie, why ? He is devotedly attached to you. 
If you only could ! ” Mrs. Norton plead. 

“ Why ? I will tell you, aunty. Papa, you, and Gerald 
fill my heart so entirely, I have room for none else. Now, 
that is the whole secret,” Nettie answered, a bright flush 
mantling her face. 

“ Nettie, some time there must come another love. Ger- 
ald may have already found that. His little playmate 
may still hold her place in his heart, but not fill it, Net- 
tie. Think, my dear, of the many years you have been 
separated. And how likely it is, that among the many 
lovely girls that Gerald meets, he may have found one 
that has taught him what love truly is.” 

“ Nay, aunt, I know better. If he had, he would have 
told me, as I should him. I will wait and see. His letter 
brought the news of his starting for the long-proposed 
tour. Every day we may hope to see him.” 

Mrs. Norton and Nettie were in Milan, where they had 
spent the summer, at the time of this conversation. 

A few days after, a servant entered the drawing-room 
and presented a card to Mrs. Norton. With great pleasure 
she read, “ Gerald Armstrong, M. D.” 


TJGLY NETTIE. 103 

A moment after, this young gentleman was receiving a 
very warm welcome. 

“ When did you arrive ? ” Mrs. Norton asked. 

“ In this city, last evening. At this house, full fifteen 
minutes ago. I have been standing in the hall listening 
to a divine songstress. Is she a professional ? ” 

“ So intended. But she has not made her debut yet.” 

After a few minutes discussing the merits of the singer, 
Gerald asked, 

“Where is Nettie? I am quite impatient to see my 
little playmate.” 

“ Nettie will be disengaged in a few moments,” Mrs. 
Norton said, glancing at her watch. “ This is her hour 
with her teacher. She is still at her studies. In the mean- 
time, we will, if you choose, go and hear more of the song- 
stress. She is a friend, and I can present you.” 

Gerald, gladly accepting the invitation, followed Mrs. 
Norton into the adjoining apartment. The sweet, rich 
voice was filling the room as they entered. Waiting until 
the conclusion of the song, Mrs. Norton then advanced, and 
in a low tone spoke to the singer. She turned quickly, 
•with a beaming smile, and “ Doctor Armstrong ” was pre- 
sented to — 

“ Miss — ” the name was very indistinctly pronounced ; 
perhaps intentionally so. At any rate, Gerald did not 
catch it. After making a graceful bow, Gerald was ex- 
pressing his great pleasure at meeting the beautiful girl, 
when, with a merry, rippling laugh, she cried, 

“ Oh, this is too funny ! Gerald, dear Gerald, do you 
not know me?” 

Speechless with amazement, Gerald turned from one to 
the other. Then, as doubting his own senses, he exclaimed, 

“ Never ! ’Tis impossible ! Nettie, can this be ? ” 

“ I am deeply impressed with the belief it is,” Nettie an- 
swered merrily ; adding, 


104 


UGLY NETTIE. 


“ But oh, don’t stand there staring at me ! Why don’t 
you say how glad you are to see me ? My heart is almost 
bursting with 'gladness. And if aunty was not standing 
by, in all her dignity, I should shout and dance and clap 
my hands with joy ! Do say something, Gerald ! ” 

“ What can I say ? I came here, expecting to pick up and 
clasp to my heart my little playmate ; and I find a beautiful 
young lady. What can I call her now ? What can I say to 
her ? I do not know her,” Gerald answered, almost sadly. 

“ Oh, I do believe you are not a bit glad. I almost 
begin to think you would sooner have found the poor, 
ugly, unloved little Nettie you parted with years ago,” 
Nettie said, her eyes filling for an instant. But the tears 
were driven back by the bright smiles, as she said, 

“ Well, Dr. Armstrong, I am very glad your improve- 
ment has not been so striking as to render me speechless 
with amazement. I left you just the best looking youth I 
thought I ever saw. And now I find you with your heavy 
whiskers and moustache, looking savage enough, and 
quite ready to commence your chosen work of slaughtering 
the innocent.” 

During this little bantering speech Mrs. Norton had 
slipped from the room. On her return she found Gerald 
seated beside Nettie, and seemingly very much at home 
with the beautiful girl, and quite reconciled to the won- 
derful change. During the evening Gerald learned that 
Nettie had accepted an engagement, and would make her 
debut in London in a few weeks. After which she would 
return to the States in charge of a celebrated musical 
director. Mrs. Norton told him she had been very reluc- 
tant to have Nettie use her voice thus. But it had been 
for three years Nettie’s dearest hope to make herself \ for her 
father, sufficient to render his old age perfectly comforta- 
ble and free from care. 


UGLY NETTIE. 


105 


“And then, after that , I will sing no more, only for the 
pleasure of my friends and in private,” Nettie said, turn- 
ing to Gerald with an assuring smile. 

Gerald accompanied them to London. Then, after wit- 
nessing Nettie’s grand success, he bade them good-by, a 
business engagement compelling his immediate return 
home. He went with a very happy heart, having won 
Nettie’s promise to be his, at no very distant day. 

Mrs. Norton had bound him over to strict secrecy with 
regard to Nettie ; saying, 

“ We wish the surprise to be complete. Nettie’s Italian 
nom de plume will protect her from recognition.” 

According to instruction, Gerald had very little to tell 
of Nettie, to either her mother or sisters. Yet to her 
father, I believe he was rather more communicative ; but 
the secret was guarded well; Mr. Bartlett, neither by 
word nor look, betraying any knowledge he might have 
gained. Gerald, however, was very enthusiastic in his 
account and praises of the young prima donna, of whose 
coming they had already seen the announcement. He 
told them he had been introduced to the charming song- 
stress in Milan, by an American friend. 

“ I declare, Gerald, I believe you have lost your heart 
with this wonderful creature,” Rose said. 

“ I believe I have, Rose,” Gerald answered, with spark- 
ling eyes. 

“ Well, indeed, you are candid. Hoes Nettie know of 
your infatuation ? and how does she feel about it ? ” 

“ Oh, Nettie is very well pleased. I believe I have her 
best wishes for success. Nettie is all right. She has won 
all the love she wants. I do not know that I ought to be- 
tray confidence in this way ; but she is engaged to a young 
fellow she met in Milan— a pretty good sort of chap ; but I 
know she could have done better. Girls, however, are not 


106 


UGLY NETTIE. 


always as sensible as they might be on such subjects. Ex- 
cuse me, Rose, I was just thinking about my own case. If 
I am so fortunate as to win the favorable consideration of 
my fair charmer, that will be sufficient proof of the truth of 
my remark. Do you not think so ? Of course, you are too 
polite to say so. Well, I suppose you will all like to see 
and hear the fair being that I have talked so much of. So 
consider yourself engaged for her first appearance,” Gerald 
said, with a quizzical smile, that only Mr. Bartlett under- 
stood. 

The night of the opera came. The house was filled to 
its utmost capacity. Gerald had procured a private box 
for Mr. Bartlett and the family. 

Eagerly Gerald watched the face of each when the prima 
donna made her appearance. 

Her reception was wildly enthusiastic ; but no expres- 
sion other than admiration escapes the lips, or was no- 
ticeable in the eyes of either of his companions. Gerald 
felt quite sure there was not the slightest chance of a 
recognition. 

Never was a more glorious voice heard in B , and 

never did an audience more fully appreciate it and express 
their gratification. The success was one of the most bril- 
liant of the age. 

After the opera was over, Gerald stepped out for a mo- 
ment, to return with Mrs. Norton. He had told them of 
her arrival and presence in the house. 

After the many questions of “ When did you come ? ” 
and “ Why did you not let us know ? ” were answered, 
Mrs. Bartlett asked: 

“ But Nettie : where is she ? ” 

“She is waiting our coming at the hotel, quite near. 
Come, let us go. I know how very anxiously, and impa- 
tiently, too, she is watching for you,” Mrs. Norton replied. 

Fifteen minutes after, Gerald opened the door of a pri- 


UGLY NETTIE. 107 

vate parlor, in the House. In the centre of the room, 

her face beaming with joyous smiles, Nettie stood. 

As her father entered, with a glad cry she sprang to 
meet him, and was caught to his bosom, as he exclaimed : 

“ Thank God, my darling, I have you at last 1 ” 

Mrs. Bartlett was speechless with amazement as she saw 
the prima donna of the evening clasped in her husband’s 
arms. Even his cry of joyful thanksgiving did not relieve 
her astonishment until she herself was clasped by warm, 
loving arms, and a sweet voice was whispering : 

“ Mamma, dear, it is Nettie, your own child ! ” 

Rose and Lilly were both caught in one loving embrace. 
Nettie, amused at their looks of amazement, laughingly 
said: 

“ Stop looking at me so strangely, or I shall have to 
stick a pin in you to convince you that you are wide 
awake, and that your own dear sister is waiting to be wel- 
comed by somebody.” 

“Well, if you are truly my own dear sister, and there is 
no witchcraft about it, I think you received a welcome to- 
night quite sufficient to satisfy the most exacting being on 
earth 1 ” Rose exclaimed. 

“Ah, Nettie, there certainly has been a fairy, and her 
magic wand must have done this wondrous work,” Lilly 
said. 

And Nettie, for answer, laid her head caressingly against 
her aunt, and said : 

“ Here she is, Lilly; and her magic wand was love.” 

After the surprise had worn off somewhat, Rose made a 
dash at Gerald, and giving him a good shake, said: 

“ Here, you arch deceiver, how can you stand up here 
with such a clear brow, after all that yarn of falsity you 
wove for us ? ” 

“ It was the truth, Rose, every word of it, only told in a 
mystic way,” Gerald replied, with difficulty, amidst his 
laughter. 


108 


UGLY NETTIE. 


“ Indeed, sir ! Well, I perfectly remember every word, 
and shall duly report that conversation to Nettie when an 
opportunity presents.” 

“All right, Rose ; I am very confident that Nettie will 
acknowledge the truth of all I said.” 

While the young folks were talking, Mrs. Norton, in 
another part of the room, was explaining to the happy 
parents much of what was still a mystery to them ; and 
particularly Nettie’s reason for entering the profession. 

“ Heaven bless my precious child, my good, loving girl ! ” 
Mr. Bartlett said, with deep emotion. 

“ Louise,” said her aunt, “ years ago you asked , 1 What 
should you do with Nettie ? ’ There is a young gentleman 
who is very anxious to answer that question,” glancing at 
Gerald. 

He caught this remark, and taking Nettie’s hand, led her 
to where her parents sat, and said : 

“ Give her to me, and my constant aim will be to prove 
my worthiness and gratitude for so priceless a boon.” 

“ God bless you, my dear boy ! To no one else could I 
give my child so willingly. You are worthy of her, Ger- 
ald. You loved her when love was more precious to her 
than even now,” Mr. Bartlett said, his voice trembling with 
deep emotion. 

When the young lovers had moved away, Mrs. Norton 
said: 

“ Louise, when I begged for Nettie seven years ago, I saw 
then that beneath the plain, aye, ugly surface, a beauty of 
such depth and purity that I believed by proper nurture 
would spring forth to light and life. And so it has proved. 
So I bring back to you a daughter not only fair to look 
upon, but one whose beauty will never grow less, nor time 
efface — a beauty that will wax purer and brighter, to bless 
and comfort her parents’ declining years.” 


BEN. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^ ^ T) EN ! Ben ! ” called a shrill voice from the door of 
-D “ Sweet Briar ” farm-house. “ Where can that boy 
be ? Ben ! Land’s sake ! I might split my throat calling 
him, and maybe if he warn’t more than twenty yards off 
he wouldn’t hear me. A body’s got to go right up to him 
and give him a good shake to bring him to his senses. 
That boy’s mind is certainly wandering. John, have you 
or Bob seen anything of Ben ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am. See ; there he is under the oak in the 
meadow,” answered John. 

“ Yes, indeed, just as I thought. Did he hear the dinner 
horn ? ” 

“Sure he did, Miss Hetty; ’cause I told him of it as I 
was coming. He said he’d sooner read than eat. That 
he wasn’t hungry for bread and meat” Bob answered. 

“No, nor strawberry short-cake and cream neither,” 
snapped aunt Hetty. “ Dear, dear ! there was t a time 
when that boy would have run five miles for a cut of 
strawberry short-cake. What has come over him? Well, 
well ! it’s as plain as daylight that boy ain’t what he used 
to be. If he ain’t reading he’s thinking. Not that I’m 
opposed to reading — that is, in a moderate way. Now, 
Ben, we sent him to the county school two winters; and 
then Mr. Jenkins, the schoolmaster, he taught him consid- 
erable between times; and he’s read a wonderful lot of 

( 100 ) 


110 


BEN. 


books — every one in this house, and I do suppose there’s 
a dozen, maybe near two, not counting the Testaments 
and hymns. Then he’s been twice through the geography 
and History of the United States. And what on earth is 
the use of any more, unless one’s going to be a doctor, or 
lawyer, or preacher ? ” 

“ What’s the matter, Hetty? What’s troubling you 
now ? ” asked a cheery voice close behind her. 

“ What’s the matter ? Matter enough ! It’s Ben. There 
he is now, just getting up from under the oak. Been there 
the whole dinner hour reading. I do declare — it’s no 
kind of use denying it — that boy’s mind’s wandering, 
Abel, as sure as you’re alive.” 

‘‘Been thinking so myself, Hetty; but as long as he 
ain’t dangerous , why there’s no use worrying about it. 
Ben’s changed; but maybe no harm’ll come of it. He 
does his share of the work ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! But he used to do more than his share, and 
always was lively like. But now he seems all the time in 
a dream. I’m most fit to say I’ll discharge him.” 

“ Oh, no, you aint, Hetty. You can’t, neither. Now if 
he was a common hired hand like John and Bob you 
might ; but you see he belongs to us, and we to him, until 
he’s of age. And beside, he’s got our blood in him ; and 
we do set a lot of store by him after all.” 

“ Yes, Abel, we do; but at times I do get riled up a bit. 
Ben don’t take after us. It’s his mother he’s getting like 
now. You know she wasn’t of much account. Couldn’t 
do like others’ folks ; couldn’t keep house any more than 
a baby ; couldn’t tell how a loaf of bread was made any 
more than I can tell how the transit of Venus was made. 
Poor William ! No wonder he couldn’t get along ! How’s 
a man going to without a wife or sister to help him? 
She never cared for nothing but books and pictures.” 


BEN. 


Ill 


“And her husband, Hetty; there’s no denying that. 
Poor child ! She never smiled after he was taken, and 
followed soon after. Well, Hetty, Ben has been a comfort 
to us, and who knows but he will be again in our old age? ” 
“ Yes, he has been. He was like us, Abel, and would 
maybe have continued so if it hadn’t been for that little 
city piece ! It’s her that’s done it ! And Abel, don’t she 
put you in mind of Ben’s mother? ” , 

“Something. Well, little woman, this all comes of your 
insisting upon having a boarder these summer months. 
But now to business. What time am I to go up to the 
depot ? What time will those picnic folks be back ? ” 
“Oh, don’t you concern yourself! She told Ben, and 
he’s going after her. Now I must see about my muffins 
for tea.” 

Twenty years before William Hildreth, the brother of 

Abel and Hetty, then a prospering merchant in B , 

had married a beautiful orphan girl, whose only wealth 
was her pure, loving heart. She was a frail, dainty little 
thing, only fit for a rich man’s wfife. William Hildreth 
knew this when he took her into his heart and home. He 
believed himself likely soon to be able to surround her 
with all the luxuries that wealth could furnish. But mis- 
fortune followed his path, and when, less than five years 
after his marriage, he died suddenly, his business was 
found in a most embarrassed state. In truth, from the 
wreck scarcely enough was found to support the widow 
the few months she lingered after her husband’s death. 

Then Abel and Hetty, the old bachelor uncle and old 
maid aunt, went up to town and brought home the little 
four-year-old boy. Dearly they loved him, and according 
to their ideas had done the very best they could for him. 

Ben was now nineteen — a tall, handsome lad, with his 
mother’s dark blue eyes and delicate features. 


112 


BEN. 


“ Glorious eyes ! filled with goodness and beauty. A 
noble-looking youth, with a soul full of poetry, I am sure ! 
How prettily his hair waves off his forehead ! and what a 
splendid brow ! He ought to be a poet,” said beautiful 
Grace Fairfield. “ I wonder if he can be any relation to 
these people ? ” 

Miss Fairfield had been three days at “Sweet Briar 
cottage ” before her eyes had rested on Ben. One morning 
she had stepped into the breakfast-room, after she sup- 
posed every one gone to work, and found Ben eating with 
aunt Hetty. 

“ I came in to see if I could have a horse for an hour or 
so this morning ? ” she said. 

“ Why, yes, I guess so. The horses ain’t busy now, are 
they, Ben? Bless me! where has the boy gone?” ex- 
claimed aunt Hetty. Ben had disappeared ; but in fifteen 
minutes after John brought “ Brown Bess ” round to the 
stile. 

Grace Fairfield was a beautiful little blonde, the only 
daughter of a wealthy merchant. The winter before was 
Grace’s first in society. The constant whirl of fashionable 
dissipation had very much impaired her naturally delicate 
constitution ; so her father would listen to no suggestions 
of Newport, Saratoga, or Long Branch that summer. 

Aunt Hetty, looking over the morning paper that Ben 
had just brought from the post-office, read out : 

“Wanted — Board for a young lady in a farm-house 
convenient to the railroad. For a comfortable room and 
good fare a liberal price will be paid. Address G. F., box 
215, P. 0.” 

“There’s a chance for us, Abel! Do, now, sit right 
down here and answer ! Or you do it, Ben ! You write 
kinder nicer than uncle. His fingers are stiff a little now,” 


BEN. 


113 


aunt Hetty said, a glow of excitement on her pleasant 
face. 

“Now, now, Hetty! what on earth do you want with 
boarders? Don’t you have work enough to do now? 
And don’t you have everything you want without keeping 
boarders ? ” Abel answered. 

“ Look here, Abel ! ’Tain’t no extra work, and ’tain’t 
no extra expense. We have everything on the farm but 
tea and sugar and coffee, and we have to have them any- 
how. So you see it will be all clear gain , and I’m bound 
to do it if I can ! ” 

And so she did. And that was how Miss Fairfield came 
to “ Sweet Briar Farm.” 

Aunt Hetty was standing on the porch watching the 
graceful little figure on “ Brown Bess.” 

“Now, I’m ready. Please, Miss Hildreth, direct mo 
which path to take. You know I am a perfect strangei 
in this country,” G.race said. 

“Well, now, so you be! I never thought of that, or 
brother Abel could just as well have gone with you. I 
tell you what you can do. Just ride along through that 
lane yonder, and you’ll come up with Ben. Ask him to 
go with you. He’ll show you the prettiest places about. 
Tell him I say to get on ‘ Prince,’ and then you can call 
by the post-office and get the mail.” 

“ Who is Ben, Miss Hildreth ? ” Grace asked. 

“ Why, our nephew, to be sure. Now, you better hurry 
along, before he gets out of the way,” Miss Hettie 
returned. 

“ I never would have dreamed that,” Grace said, as she 
rode off. “ They are good folks, but so plain.” 

Ben was walking in the meadow close by the lane, and 
hoped to escape Miss Fairfield’s notice. 

« I hardly iike to call him. Indeed, I am not sure I 


114 


BEN. 


know his name. Pshaw ! I don’t mind. He is only a 
boy, after all,” Grace said, as she came close to Ben. 

Be it known that this young lady was, really, nearly a 
year younger than the boy. 

“ Benny ! ” called a low, sweet voice, close by. 

Long years had flown since by that name he had been 
called. 

Swiftly the youth’s memory brought forth, from the dim 
past, a beautiful, gentle woman, who used to call him 
“ Benny ” — a form that sometimes now hovered about him 
in dreams. 

“ Benny, please come here ? ” 

Quickly Ben stepped up to the fence-side, and, raising 
his hat, awaited her bidding. 

“ Benny, your aunt said, if I asked you, you would come 
and show me about a little, and we could go to the post- 
office. Would you like to?” Miss Fairfield said. 

“ Thank you ! Very much. I will keep you but a few 
moments waiting,” Ben answered, hurrying off. 

In ten minutes, he was back again. And what a 
delightful ride they had ! The charming ease of this city 
belle soon put to flight Ben’s diffidence. With her sweet, 
winning way, she drew him to talk of things he loved to 
dwell upon. After that day, a new existence seemed opened 
to Ben. Grace brought to him her favorite authors. To- 
gether they read them. To her the happy youth confided 
all the yearnings of his nature. She understood, and 
sympathized with him. Daily he thanked Heaven for 
blessing him with the society of Grace Fairfield. 

Yes, Ben had changed; and, as aunt Hetty said, his 
mind was wandering. But little she understood how, or 
where! Only Grace knew what those dreamy moods 
meant. 

At last, those happy summer days were ended. Grace 


BEN. 


115 


was bidding good-by to “Sweet Briar Farm.” To aunt 
Hetty, as she had learned to call her, she had given a pair 
of gold-bound spectacles, the desire of that good woman’s 
heart for many years. Uncle Abel was delighted in the 
possession of an india-rubber coat and overalls. Ben was 
to take Grace to the station. For days, aye, weeks, he 
had been looking forward to the time of parting, and 
schooling himself to bear it. But it came just as hard, for 
all that. Ah ! to him that beautiful girl was all the world — 
more than life; and yet he felt quite sure that to her he was 
only the companion of those summer days, to be thought 
of occasionally, and remembered kindly, nothing more. 

But in this he was mistaken. Grace had really formed 
a warm friendship for the handsome, talented youth. She 
believed that in the future he would do well. The hope 
came that, for her sake, he would strive to grow great. And 
then she would wait, and gladly welcome his coming. 

Now Grace was not really in love with our Ben, only 
she liked him much too well to fall in love with any one 
else. There was little spoken on the way ; only, as the 
station came in sight, Grace said : 

“ I trust we shall meet again ! If you come to B , 

you must certainly call.” 

“ Thank you ! ” was all that Ben could say. 

And then, when the last moment had come, Grace put 
her hand into his, and said : 

“ I have left a little remembrance in your room. Good- 
by.” 

Clasping her hand tightly, Ben raised his eyes to hers. 
He could not speak a word of thanks, or utter the words 
of parting. But Grace read them all in the beautiful, dark 
eyes, and read more, too — a world of love — that she knew 
was all her own. 

Some gentle, loving spirit must have whispered — “ One 

7 


116 


BEN. 


word of comfort and hope to the poor boy who loves you.” 
And she said : 

“ The days would have been long and dreary without 
you, Benny. I shall never forget the happy hours we have 
spent together.” 

The boy’s face, so sad a moment before, was radiant, 
then ; and the heart, almost bursting with love, forced the 
lips to speak its hope and thanks. 

“ Oh, yes ! Do not forget me ; for, with God’s blessing, 
we shall meet again, and, then ” — he hesitated ; the pale 
face flushed — “whatever I may be, you will have made 
me.” 

Then, with a smiling, encouraging adieu, she was borne 
from him. 

Back he hastened, to find the books they had read 
together, her writing-desk, with all its appointments, in 
his room. But for these, how could he have lived through 
those long, dreary winter months? Yes, he had a still 
greater comfort. Grace had given aunt Hetty her photo- 
graph. Ben found it stuck in the clock when he went 
down to supper, and aunt Hetty said : 

“ I stuck it up there for you to see, before I put it away. 
Ben, it’s ’mazing like her, ain’t it ? ” 

How long Ben would have remained with his eyes fixed 
on the lovely pictured face it is impossible to tell, had not 
aunt Hetty called out : 

“ Saints of mercy ! I declare, you are enough to try the 
patience of Job ! Everything on the table ’ll be as cold 
as charity, boy ! Come, and eat, or say you don’t want 
any.” 

The picture was placed in the album, where it remained 
during the day. But, when aunt Hetty was sleeping, Ben 
stole quietly down into the parlor, returning with the 
treasure to place it before him on her desk; and there, with 


BEN. 117 

his eyes riveted on the dear face, to sit, and think, and 
dream. ^ So the days passed by. 

“ Yes, dreaming. Still dreaming!” aunt said, shaking 
her head sadly. “And I do believe he sits up more than 
half the night, poring over those books ! I suppose the 
child meant well. But I do wish she had taken them all 
back with her. Now, he is not only wasting his time, but 
the oil too ! That's what I’m thinking of.” 

The next summer Ben’s hopes were crushed by seeing 
in the list of guests at Newport the names of Mr. Fair- 
field and daughter. Again aunt Hetty felt inclined 
towards boarders, and so answered another advertise- 
ment. 

This time her boarder proved to be the editor of a well- 
known literary journal. 

“ Can you let me have paper and pen ? I want to send 
off a letter by the man going for my trunk,” Mr. Bartlett 
asked of Ben. 

Grace’s exquisite little desk was placed before him. 
After opening it Ben went out. 

The letter was written and despatched. Then Mr. Bart- 
lett sought uncle Abel. 

“ Can you tell me the author of these lines? ” he asked, 
presenting a sheet of paper on which were written several 
verses. 

“ Some of Ben’s nonsense, I reckon. His aunt says he 
is scribbling half the night.” 

“ Indeed! Well, this sort of nonsense is in demand just 
now,” Mr. Bartlett answered, dryly. 

After that he and Ben had a long talk. Then there was 
a family consultation that ended in Ben’s departure from 
“ Sweet Briar Farm.” He carried with him aunt Hetty’s 
blessing. But her head was still shaking ominously, and 
her fears were great. 


118 


BEN. 


She thought “ farming was the safest and surest way, if 
not to riches and fame, certainly to heaven.” 

******* 

Five years passed swiftly. Ben had given to the world 
his dreams. Across the great waters his name is known, 
his fame sung. The leading journals of the country de- 
clared his the brightest genius of the age. 

Great men were his friends. Beautiful women smiled 
upon him. 

But Ben was not satisfied with all this. There was a 
yearning that never had ceased. Down in his heart lived 
the image of one for whose love he would have given all 
he had gained ; all of wealth, all of fame ! In vain he had 
sought her. Yet his faith was strong that he should find 
her. That had been his earnest, constant prayer, since the 
day they parted. 

All he could learn was that Mr. Fairfield had failed 
completely, and died a few months after. That Grace had 
found a home in the far north. This was so, but the home 
offered was grudgingly given, and after a few months of 
suffering she returned, to B , and sought to gain a sup- 
port by her own exertions. 

Of course, she knew of Ben’s success. Had it been as 
in other days, she would have added her congratulation 
with the many friends around him. But that could not 
be. She was over-sensitive and sought to hide away from 
the companions of those happy times. “ She should know 
him no more, except through his works,” she thought, 
with a sad heart. 

Wearily she was returning to her comfortless home after 
a fatiguing day with her music scholars. 

Ben had been down to “ Sweet Briar ” to see the old 

folks, and returning had stopped in B to try again to 

find some tidings of Grace. 


BEN. 


119 


A little figure, clothed in deep mourning, walked in 
front of him. Bright golden tresses, only half hidden by 
the crape veil, caught his gaze. 

Ben’s heart gave a great bound ! Surely he could not 
be mistaken ! He stepped quickly ahead (at the risk of 
being considered very rude), and glancing back, ex- 
claimed : 

“ Grace ! Miss Fairfield ! Thank heaven ! I have found 
you at last ! ” 

With a bright smile Grace held out her hand, saying : 

“ I am so glad to see you, Mr. Hildreth, and to con- 
gratulate you on your success — ” 

“ Only to-day’s success, please ! For this I have been 
striving for years,” returned our Ben. No longer an easily 
embarrassed youth, but a gentleman, graceful and pol- 
ished, accustomed to giving and receiving pleasant com- 
pliments. 

“ Trying to find me ! I never dreamed of this,” Grace 
answered in a surprised tone ; and added, with a slight 
quiver in her voice : 

“ Here we are. This is my home now.” 

“ May I come in ? ” Ben asked. 

Hesitating a moment to form some polite excuse, Grace 
intended to send him away. Ben ran up the steps, and 
turning the knob opened the door. 

“No, no; please! I had rather you would not. Oh, 
do you not know how terribly things have changed ? ” 

Tears filled her beautiful eyes, and Ben longed to take 
her in his arms and assure her her days of trial were over. 
But the door-step was not just the place. So he contented 
himself by saying : 

“ Excuse me, but years ago you gave me permission to 
come. So here I am.” 

Smiling through her tears, Grace said : 


120 


BEN 


“ I see you are determined, and — and I am glad to have 
you come.” 

Not until she had removed her wrappings did Ben 
notice how thin and pale she was. 

Without any preliminary remarks, he said : 

“ I am going to take you up to the farm this evening. 
The train leaves at six. You have over an hour to get 
ready. I must call back some of the roses to your cheeks, 
little lady.” 

Grace began resistance, but she was too tired and weak 
to hold out long. Ben was determined. And it was 
very sweet to the lonely orphan to have some one take her 
from herself and care for her. 

“ But my pupils ? ” she asked. 

“ I will attend to them Monday. To-morrow and Sun- 
day you have no lessons. In the meantime you can write 
your resignation,” Ben answered, in a quiet, matter-of- 
fact-like way. 

“Oh! no, indeed, I cannot ! You do not know how 
necessary it is — ” 

“Yes, Miss Fairfield. Do let me say Grace! Grace, 
dear one ! I do know how very necessary it is that you 
shall have rest from all care. And more I know, that for 
years I waited and prayed for this hour. You must have 
known I loved you in those happy days at the farm. 
Every day since you have grown dearer. I cannot lose 
you again ; not even for a day, my darling ! I want you 
to come now to uncle and aunt. To be their child until 
you are ready to be my wife! Surely, after all these 
years of waiting, you will not send me forth ! You can 
grow to love me ! Grace, speak to me ! ” 

“ Must I tell you, then ? I have never loved any one 
better than you, Benny ; save father and mother,” Grace 
answered, a beautiful blush mantling her sweet face. 


BEN. 


121 


Ben was profoundly happy. He carried his love to 
“ the farm,” where uncle Abel and aunt Hetty took her to 
their hearts, and were sorry enough to give her up to 
Ben, when he came to take her to his own beautiful 
home. But they go up to visit their children in the 
winters, and the summers bring their children back to 
them. 

And so the years go by. 

If aunt Hetty cannot fully appreciate Ben’s glorious 
mind, she no longer chides, nor considers his wanderings 
dangerous. She has even admitted to Grace : 

“ Perhaps it is as well with Ben as though he had stuck 
to the plough. And maybe he wasn’t any farther off from 
heaven. But still, as a Christian woman, she couldn’t 
advocate neither the writing , no more than the telling , of 
things that were stories. Even if the laws of the State did 
allow it, and Ben was paid well for it.” 


DID HE WIN THE RIGHT ONE? 

BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.] 

^TTARRY, I should like to know what it was that 
JJL stopped you visiting Carrie Fulton? I used to 
think she would be my sister. She is such a dear little 
loving girl ! I do hope some noble man will win her ! 
Did you not think a great deal of her once ? ” 

“ Yes, I did like her, better than any girl I knew. I 
might have grown to love her, had I not stopped in time. 
She is a sweet little thing, but — ” 

“ But what ? I want to know ! What was the fault ? 1 
think her as near perfection as any mortal can be ! ” 

“ Nellie, you know my hobby : I must have a wife that 
is neat and industrious.” 

“ Well, sir, Carrie is both.” 

“ No, Nellie, she certainly is not. I am sure her hus- 
band’s buttons will never be on; nor his socks mended.” 

“ Why, Harry Harden ! I declare you ought to be 
ashamed! What reason have you for speaking thus?” 
Nellie asked, with flashing eyes. 

“The best. I have been out with her, with her fingers 
peeping through her gloves ; and once, I remember seeing 
her stop, and catch up the flounce of her dress, with a pin. 
I should be worried to death with such a wife.” 

“Nonsense! I know where that kind of talk comes 
from — aunty Allright. I have heard her preach from that 
text, hundreds of times. It was well enough for her , who 
( 122 ) 


DID IIE WIN THE RIGHT ONE? 123 


lived in those days when girls had time for everything they 
needed to do. Aunty had servants enough, even one to 
pick up the scraps she cut. She mended, and darned, just 
for amusement, I believe ! I would like to see her in 
Carrie’s place ! I doubt if she would find time to get on 
her clothes, not to speak of mending them ! Poor, dear 
girl ! She has to take care of six little children. Hear 
their lessons, make and mend their clothes; wash and 
dress them ; in fact, attend to them generally. I know 
their wants are endless. What time has she to herself? 
If she had, she would give it to some one else. Everybody 
before herself. The dear, unselfish little girl! Very well, 
my young man ! Go ahead ! You give up Carrie, and see 
if you do not rue it ! You will be taken in by some smart, 
cute girl. I will be glad of it, too ! ” 

“ Come, Nellie, don’t be cross. I feel bad enough about 
having to give up Carrie.” 

“ Hush ! You presumptuous youth ! You give up Car- 
rie! are you sure you could get her? ” snapped Nellie. 

“ No, indeed, not sure , but — ” 

“ But I know there is somebody else trying to win her. 
Felix Manly it is. He is just a splendid fellow ! And I 
am sure would be happy to win her ; even if he did have 
to sew on a button occasionally. If I were not so selfish in 
wanting Carrie to be something nearer to me, I would try 
to help him with his wooing.” 

“Do you think he is really in earnest?” Harry asked, 
looking rather grave. 

“I know it. He told me so. And Carrie has a very 
high opinion of him. I heard her say she knew he 
would make any girl, fortunate enough to win him, very 
happy.” 

“ I swear I have a mind to go right now , and take her 
from him!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up, and pacing 


124 BID HE WIN THE EIGHT ONE? 


the floor. “She is just the prettiest girl in town. Yes, 
and very intelligent, and amiable to a fault. Altogether 
the best girl I know, but — ” 

“ There, no more quotations from aunty Allright. I am 
going to walk. Will you come ? ” 

“ Yes, a little way only, though ; I have to go back to the 
office,” Harry answered. 

“All right, I am going to call on Carrie and some 
friends, visiting there.” 

After Harry left Nellie he went to his office, but could 
not work. Thoughts of Carrie and aunt Allright filled his 
mind. Now this old lady had left Harry money enough 
to keep her memory ever green. Besides this, she had left 
him these parting instructions : “ My boy, don’t you ever 
marry, until you are perfectly sure the girl is tidy and 
thrifty ; if you don’t want to be a miserable man the rest 
of your days.” 

Nellie was Harry’s only sister, and had been his house- 
keeper since his mother’s death. Now Nellie was to be 
married in a few weeks, and sail immediately for Europe, 
to be absent three years. Harry felt that he must find 
somebody to fill Nellie’s place. His heart suggested con- 
tinually Carrie ; but the old aunty’s words and predictions 
of “ lifelong misery ” kept him from going then and there 
to offer his heart and hand to Carrie and gain her promise 
to be his. 

“Well, it’s no use for me to sit here in this hot room. 
I cannot fix my mind to my work, so I might better be 
out in the fresh air,” Harry thought, and so 2 throwing 
down his pen, he soon after left the office. 

******* 

“Nellie! Where are you? Do come down! I have 
something to tell you ! ” called Harry. 

Nellie had just returned, and was laying off her walking- 
suit. A few moments after she entered the parlor and asked : 


DID HE WIN THE EIGHT ONE? 125 


“ What is it, Harry ? But light the gas first, unless your 
communication had better be made in the dark.” 

“ Oh, no ! I will light the gas that you may see my face 
expresses all the joy I feel. There ! Now I will begin. 
I have found the girl to make me happy. Young and 
beautiful. Then her voice ! Oh, the sweetest and softest 
I ever heard ! ” 

“ Do hush, Harry ! Carrie is all that, and more.” 

“Yes, dear; hut this lovely girl has just what Carrie 
lacks.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Oh, I know she is neat, tidy, and thrifty, as aunt — ” 

“ Harry Harden, I positively forbid you saying ‘ aunty ’ 
again to me ! But give me the 'proof of what you say.” 

“I will. I could not work, so went out for a walk. 
Passing down Seventh street, I thought I’d take a car. 
At last one came along — just the one for me, surely. As I 
approached to enter, two ladies came out and stepped off. 
The first one fell forward right into my arms. She uttered 
a cry of pain. An instant after I learned she had sprained 
her ankle. Suffering though she was, she accepted my 
offers of assistance with the most bewitching grace. I 
almost carried her over to my friend, Dr. Hart. When 
there the other lady, my charmer’s mother, unlaced and 
drew off the little boot for the doctor to examine and find 
the extent of the injury. Then it was my fate was sealed, 
for on the beautifully-formed foot I beheld a stocking, the 
darning of which was truly a wonderful feat of needlework. 
And there was enough of it, too, on the toes and heel both. 
That is the girl for me! I will find her, and by some 
means get an introduction to her, and win her if I can ! 
I know her first name, and how well it suits her ! Grace ! 
Beautiful Grace! But what are you laughing about, 
Nellie?” 


126 DID HE WIN THE RIGHT ONE? 

“ Now I declare this is really funny ! What will you 
give me for obtaining for you the entree to Miss Grace 
Charlton’s present abode ? ” 

“ Grace Charlton! What a beautiful name! Why, 
Nellie, how do you know that is her name ? ” 

“ I know! That is enough for the present. So you 
think you have sufficient proof of her being all you wish, 
hey ? How know you that her mamma did not darn her 
stocking ? ” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! Her mamma wears glasses. She could 
never have done them. Only one with young and strong 
eyes could. Now do not teaze me, that’s a darling sister ; 
but tell me right away, how do you know your Grace 
Charlton and my lovely Grace are the same?” 

“ Because I have positive proof. I told you I was going 
to call on some friends of Carrie’s. Well, they were out 
when I reached there, but returned before I left, the lovely 
Grace having to be almost carried from the carriage. Of 
course I heard all the particulars of the accident. I never 
dreamed my brother was the gentleman alluded to so fre- 
quently. Ah ! I can read your thoughts. I know you are 
almost dying to inquire if you made a favorable impres- 
sion ! ” 

“ It is only natural if I should feel so. Tell me this, 
and go with me to call the first time, and — well, I give you 
anything you wish for your wedding present,” Harry said, 
coaxingly. 

“Very well; it is a bargain. You need not fear about 
the impression you made ; that is all right. Grace said she 
hoped to meet that young gentleman again. I would not 
go with you or help you a mite if I had any hope left with 
regard to Carrie. Now I believe, if she ever cared at all for 
you, she does no longer. Felix will win her.” 

Harry winced a little at this, thinking “ how happy he 


DID HE WIN THE EIGHT ONE? 127 


could be with either, were the other dear charmer away.” 
But he said nothing. 

The next evening Nellie introduced her brother to the 
lovely Grace. Harry was really in earnest, and went 
ahead with his wooing rapidly; the result — his union 
with the beautiful Grace — being announced to take place 
the same day as his sister’s marriage. Harry thought him- 
self the happiest and luckiest fellow living, in having 
secured such a perfect prize. In gratitude to Nellie for her 
assistance, he gave her, as a wedding present, a complete 
service of silver. The bridal tour was not an extended 
one, Harry’s business demanding his speedy return. In- 
deed, he was well pleased to get back to his home, which 
he felt would be a haven of perfect bliss. Grace would 
preside, and everything would be perfect. Very gradually 
the light dawned upon him. Several times he had to hunt 
around and into four or five drawers before he could collect 
apparel sufficient to render him presentable. But of course 
there was excuse sufficient for Grace then. She was so 
young, and how could she find time to attend to placing 
his clothes in their proper place when she had so many 
calls to receive and return ? After a while she would have 
more leisure. 

But ere that time came Harry was conscious of having 
to lay aside one after another garment minus of buttons 
and strings, until at last none other could be found. 11 Well, 
well,” he thought, “ she was wearied almost to death by 
so much visiting and receiving ; he could afford to let her 
rest a while.” A little longer and he became quite sensi- 
ble that his stock of hosiery was growing beautifully less, 
owing to the fact of his having to hunt over and toss into 
the work-basket numerous pairs, condemned for holiness. 
Still he found some excuse, and until they had been mar- 
ried more than half a year not a word of censure or com- 


128 DID HE WIN THE RIGHT ONE? 


plaint escaped his lips. And when, at length, he felt, for 
her sake as well as his own, he must speak, it was most 
gently done. 

“ Grace, darling, there are many articles of mine suffering 
for some attention. I wish you would touch them with 
those fairy fingers of yours.” 

“ Oh, dear ! don’t mention it ! I know what you mean ! 
There is nothing in the world I detest so much as mending 
and darning. Indeed, I do not know how ! If they must 
be done, do, dear, write for mamma to come. She always 
does everything of the kind for me. Dear me ! Just see 
this ruffle, almost off! Half the way round, anyhow! 
Please help me stick in a few pins. Why, Harry, I never 
saw you look so cross ! What is the matter ? ” 

“ Pins, Grace ! Pray, don’t ! Lay the dress aside until 
you can sew it, and put on another.” 

“ Oh, now, what is the use ? Besides, everything I have 
wants fixing up ! Mercy ! Why not use pins ? Nobody 
is going to notice them. How I do wish mamma was 
here, so I could have her to mend my clothes ! I have a 
great mind to send over and beg that little miracle of in- 
dustry to come to my relief; Carrie Fulton, I mean. Now, 
if I was only like Carrie I could do everything! Say, 
Harry, do you know she is to be married next month? 
And they are to live in this block. Won’t it be nice? 
Dear me! I do believe you are cross about those hate- 
ful old clothes! Never mind, I will buy you some 
new ones to-day. I cannot mend old ones in any other 
way.” 

“ Grace, do you know what it was that made me first 
fall in love with you ? ” asked Harry, gravely. 

“ No, indeed ! Oh ! perhaps you felt so sorry when I 
hurt my foot,” Grace smilingly replied. 

“ No ; it was all on account of the stocking you wore 


DID HE WIN THE EIGHT ONE? 129 

then. It was so beautifully darned I thought you were 
the neatest as well as the loveliest girl I ever met.” 

a 0h, now, this is too funny ! You were caught by false 
pretences, surely. If you wanted to win the owner of that 
stocking you should have wooed Carrie Fulton ! I wonder 
you did not, because you knew her before you met me ; 
and she is just neat and industrious enough to satisfy such 
a prim somebody as you,” Grace said, laughing merrily. 

“ Carrie Fulton ! ” 

“ Yes, Harry ; Carrie, truly . You know I had spent two 
weeks in Baltimore before I came here; so, as I never 
mend anything , my clothes then, like yours now, needed 
attention. Mamma was scolding me, when darling Carrie 
came to my relief by loaning me a pair of her stockings 
and taking all of mine to darn. Do you not feel as though 
you had married the wrong person ? But you must make 
the best you can of me. Mamma will mend and darn for 
you, and I will love you dearly and forever, provided you ; 
never hint about having been taken in, or look as if you 
were grieving about not having married the owner of that 
beautifully darned stocking,” said Grace, putting up her 
beautiful lips for a kiss. 

Harry said nothing more then, nor after; but when he 
saw Carrie in her new home, which by no means was so 
elegant as his own, but far more cosy and neat, it was only 
human-like, or rather man-like, to heave a sigh and think 
of what “ might have been.” 


A HEARTLESS GIRL 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

I T was a luxuriously-furnished apartment. The walls 
were covered with rare paintings, statuettes, and gems 
of art, adorning every available nook. Books and flowers 
were scattered in elegant confusion, in the midst of which, 
reclining in a satin-covered lounge, was a young girl. 

At first glance, the graceful figure, the brilliancy of the 
coloring, would most frequently call forth an expression 
of admiration. 

Mira Gardner ought certainly to have won the palm 
of beauty. With a wealth of bright, golden tresses, were 
eyes, large, full, and amber hue ; features small, and deli- 
cate ; a complexion of wonderful fairness, while the bright 
crimson hue of health painted her cheeks and lips. ^Yet, 
with all these, one would turn away feeling disappointed, 
and the thought flash through their mind, “ Hollow to the 
heart’s core.” 

Yes, the expression of Mira’s eyes was cold and proud. 
The curl of the ruby lips haughty and selfish. 

She had tossed the book she had been reading carelessly 
aside, and was idly toying with a magnificent diamond 
solitaire, which encircled her forefinger. 

The door opened, and a young girl entered. A “ wee 
brownie,” from the wave of her soft brown hair, to the 
hem of her plain, sombre dress. A lovely face was Bessie 
Maynard’s, full of truth, love and sympathy. 

( 130 ) 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


131 


These girls, so entirely different in mind, heart and 
features, were own cousins. Yet, it was plain enough to 
see which was the petted favorite, and which the poor 
dependent. 

When Bessie came to Mira’s side, the diamond attracted 
her attention directly ; then, glancing at her cousin’s other 
hand, she missed another ring that for many months she 
had worn. 

“Why, Mira, where is your ring?” she asked, quickly. 

“ This is my ring,” Mira answered, holding up the spark- 
ling circlet. 

“Yours! Oh, no, Mira, I hope not! Where is your 
engagement-ring ? ” 

“ This is my engagement-ring, Bessie,” Mira answered, 
in a lower and somewhat faltering tone. 

“Oh, Mira! No, you do not mean it. Poor George! 
You have not broken off with him, surely not?” 

“ Virtually, I have, Bessie. Yet, not by any word. He 
is coming to-day. Then it will be ended.” As Mira said 
this, she dropped her eyes from the searching, chiding, 
sorrowful ones gazing into hers. 

“ Mira, then you have heard the news. I did not, until 
just now, and came to break it gently to you.” 

“ Yes ; Phil Sefton told me last night. It is a complete 
failure. The firm has gone up, and every dollar of George’s 
gone with it. He will have to begin again, now — go as a 
clerk, or something of the kind, at a miserable salary, 
and — ” 

“And, for this misfortune, you have given him up ! ” 

The brown eyes were no longer sorrowful and loving, 
but, filled with indignation, and flashing their full force on 
Mira, she cried : 

“ How could you ? How dare you trample on such a 
true, noble heart? Mira Gardner, Phil Sefton knows 
8 


132 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


nothing of love like George Everit’s. What has he, but 
his gold? Nothing. And, mark me. Marry him, and 
you will, in less than five years, reap your reward. Bitter 
enough it will be.” 

“What do you mean? How dare you speak thus to 
me, and of a man who is soon to be my husband? ” 

“ Mira, I dare anything , to try and save you ! Phil Sef- 
ton will fill a drunkard’s grave.” 

“ Hush ! hush ! You shall not say such horrible things ! 
Why do you, Bessie ? ” 

“ W T hy ? Because I feel it. I have seen him intoxicated 
— you have — within the last six weeks. Oh, Mira, my 
cousin, it is not too late to save yourself! Send him forth ! 
Be true to yourself! Be true to George ! ” 

“Bessie, I will not quarrel with you. You are doing 
right, you think. And for you, with your romantic ideas 
of love in a cottage, it is all very well I You could live, 
and be happy, with very few of the good things of earth — 
you don’t care for beautiful things.” 

“ Do I not ? ” Bessie asked, reproachfully. 

“ Well, you can live without them, while I cannot. I 
must be surrounded with luxury and beauty ! Now, listen. 
I do not give up George, without some pain. If he had 
money enough to make me comfortable, to place me in 
such a home as I must have to be happy, I would sooner 
be his wife than any man’s on earth ! He has everything 
to make a woman happy, but money. He must work 
now anew. Years, many of them, may pass, ere he can 
gain even a moderate amount of wealth. Perhaps he 
never may. In the meantime, I shall be growing older. 
My beauty, not growing greater, by the suspense and 
waiting, I should lose, then, this golden chance. I cannot 
afford it. You know, aunty will have nothing to leave 
behind, when she goes from this world. All this style of 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


133 


living, like her pension, ceases with her life. Everything 
is covered with mortgages. You can find a home any- 
where. People will gladly welcome you. You are a 
handy little busybody, who can take care of yourself, and 
others, too. I must be taken care of. No, no, Bessie, I 
never would do for a poor man’s wife, while you would 
prove a jewel to one. Why could not George have taken 
to you, I wonder? Indeed, when we first knew him, I 
almost feared he did like you best ! ” 

Again the brown eyes were flashing out their indig- 
nation. 

“ I wonder if you could not comfort him now ? ” the 
heartless girl continued. 

“Would that God would bless me with the power,” 
Bessie’s heart murmured, as she turned to hide the face she 
felt had grown very pale, as the ruthless hand had sought 
to draw aside the curtain, and reveal the heart, whose 
secret she had hid away so long. 

Yes, George Everit had first been attracted by Bessie’s 
quiet loveliness. And the gentle girl’s heart welcomed the 
prospect of winning such love as she felt he could give. 
But Mira’s powers of fascination were levelled with all 
their force, and poor little Bessie was thrown completely in 
the background. Mira succeeded, of course, and we see 
how lightly she prized the heart she had won. 

Bessie and Mira were both the orphan nieces of a Mrs. 
Edgard, the widow of a naval officer. Mira was her 
sister’s child, who was said to be wonderfully like her 
aunt, so she was petted and indulged in every possible 
way, while Bessie, her brother’s daughter, was given a 
home, and a moderate amount of kindness, but expected, 
in return, to make herself generally useful. 

As Bessie turned, pained and mortified by Mira’s cruel 
speech, the hall-bell sounded. 


134 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


“ It is George, I know 1 ” exclaimed Mira, starting up, 
and glancing in the mirror. “ Now for a time ! Ugh, I do 
dread it ! Here, Bessie, put this ring in my jewel-case. I 
would not have him see it for anything ! He will think 
had enough of me, anyhow, and, if he knew all — oh, 
Heaven ! Here he comes ! ” 

Bessie escaped through an opposite door, as George 
Everit entered. 

His handsome face was very pale. There was an 
anxious, doubtful look in his dark eyes as he crossed the 
room. 

Mira raised not to meet him. No smile of welcome 
wreathed the haughty lips. 

Pausing, e’er he reached her side, George said, in a low, 
depressed tone, 

“ I see you have heard all, Mira.” 

“ Yes, sit down,” she said, pointing to a chair. 

“And have you no word of comfort? Oh, my love, I 
can give up everything with a light heart, so long as I have 
you.” He pushed aside the chair, and seating himself 
beside her, attempted to take her hand. Drawing awa^ 
from him, she said, in a low, hesitating voice, 

“George — Mr. Everit, Heaven knows I deeply regret 
your trouble ; so much so, that I cannot burden either 
your heart or hand.” 

“What do you mean, Mira? Why am I Mr. Everit? 
Oh, you cannot mean — ” 

“ I mean, you must surely understand, I could never 
make a poor man happy. I know nothing of privation — ” 

“ Heaven forbid, Mira, that this should ever be neces- 
sary. In a few years, I shall win back the lost gold, and 
more ; I feel it, I know it.” He raised his eyes, earnest and 
loving to hers, to meet only a cold, calculating expression. 
Not one word to bid him be of good cheer was uttered. 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 135 

Then for the first he seemed to understand it all. Leav- 
ing his seat, he stood with folded arms before her. 

“ Then I am to understand all is over between us,” he 
said, in a voice quivering with deep emotion. 

She could not speak. She dared not raise her eyes. 
False and hollow though she was, she felt ashamed, and 
dreaded to witness the effect of her perfidy. 

“ Then, Miss Gardner, it was for my gold alone you 
cared. I ought to rejoice in the misfortune that exposes 
your heart in its true light. The day is not far distant, I 
trust, when I shall look back to this hour, without one 
pang of regret. Farewell, Mira ; God grant the blow you 
have given me may not return with double force to your 
own heart.” 

He was turning away, when Mira said, in a faltering 
voice — she could not speak his name, 

“ Please take this.” 

He turned to receive the ring he had given six months 
before, when she had promised to be his wife. Closing his 
hand over the costly jewel, he hurried down the stairs into 
the hall. He was turning the door-knob, when a little 
figure stole quietly to his side. 

A tiny, gentle hand was laid on his arm, and Bessie’s 
beautiful eyes, full of sympathy, were raised to his, as she 
said, 

“ 1 am so very, very sorry for your trouble. Not so much 
the financial, for that you will make all right in time, I 
know. But — ” she hesitated ; her eyes were filling with tears. 

“Ah, you know it, then. Well, dry your tears, little 
one. This will not kill me. I ought to thank God. But 
it hurts now, pretty badly. I had believed her so differ- 
ent. Good-by, Bessie ; I shall remember your kind sym- 
pathy. I may leave here for the far West. It is not quite 
decided yet. I will see you again, if I go.” 


136 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


“ Good-by ; Heaven bless you,” murmured Bessie, in a 
low, faltering voice, as George warmly pressed her hand 
and hurried off. 

“ Dear little girl ! What a fool I was to be won from 
her ! She is truth and purity itself. Well, well ; now that 
dream is over. I must to work again.” 

The news of Mira’s engagement to Phil Sefton, which 
was announced a few days after, served to dispel any 
lingering regard that George retained for Mira. 

He fully understood her then, and felt a relief that he 
had escaped from so false and heartless a woman. 

On the eve of his leaving home, he called on Bessie. 
While there, he felt sure that one heart, at least, would 
truly mourn his absence. 

“ Bessie, you know I have neither mother nor sisters. 
Well, I had a picture taken, some weeks ago, for Mira;” 
he could speak her name calmly enough now. “ May I 
send it to you?” 

“ Oh, yes ! Thank you ! ” Bessie’s face was bright 
with smiles and blushes as she answered. 

“And you, when looking at it, will sometimes breathe a 
prayer for my guidance and success ? ” he asked. 

She did not speak her answer, only through the soft 
brown eyes that were raised to his. And George con- 
tinued : 

“ I shall drop my little sister a line occasionally, or send 
a paper to let her know my whereabouts. And now I 
must go. God bless you, Bessie. Should I ever return to 

B , I shall seek you directly. I trust it will not be 

very long ere I may.” 

And so they parted, George thinking, “ Well, the time 
was when I might have won her. But ’tis only pity now. 
She is a dear, sensitive little thing, who is merry with the 
happy, and sorrowing with the wretched.” 


A HEARTLESS GIRL 


137 


Bessie ran to her room to have a little cr} r . But the 
tears were soon dried when she thought of the coming 
picture. And she said, “ Oh, thank heaven for that com- 
fort! And I will hear from him, fco!” And if other 
thoughts and other hopes came to her young heart, I have 
no right to peep in and see. 

In two months Mira was married to Phil Sefton. The 
wedding was a grand affair. The presents numerous and 
magnificent. After an extended tour Phil Sefton brought 
his bride to a home of sufficient splendor to fully satisfy 
Mira’s highest ambition. 

Ere six months had passed, many times little Bessie’s 
warning prediction was brought to Mira’s mind. For on 
several occasions her husband had returned to her very 
much under the influence of wine, and from words 
dropped while in this state, she learned he had met with 
severe losses at the gaming table. 

Seven years have passed. George Everit is again in 

B . Success has crowned his efforts most bountifully. 

Not that he has grown wonderfully rich in these few years, 
for to have done that he would have either to have struck a 
mine, or have found some rich old relative, who was con- 
siderate enough to leave the world as soon as discovered, 
consigning to George’s care his gold. But as neither of 
these happened to our hero, he had only just secured 
enough to make him perfectly sure of his future. He 
knew he was on the high road to a fortune which would 
satisfy his high ambition. 

His chief business to his native city was to find Bessie. 
He knew that she was still unmarried, and he trusted free 
to receive his love, for the gentle girl had grown very 
dear to him during these years of absence. He had not 
apprised her of his coming. He hoped to give her a 
glad surprise. 


138 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


Immediately on his arrival in the city he had gone to a 
hotel, changed his travelling suit, and, making a careful 
toilette, went down to the office to search the directory to 
find Bessie. While thus occupied a slight disturbance 
caused him to turn in time to see a man pushed out, and 
catch the words, “ It’s deuced hard to put out a fellow who 
has spent thousands of dollars with you ! ” 

“ Who is he ? ” asked George, stepping to the door. 

“ His name is Phil Sefton. He has grown to be a per- 
fect sot, and is very annoying at times. This is a nightly 
occurrence ; if not here, from some other house.” 

“ Great heaven ! Is it possible ! ” exclaimed George, 
hurrying out just in time to see the miserable man reel 
and fall. 

Stepping quickly to his side he found he had received 
•quite a severe cut, from which the blood was flowing 
freely. Assisting him to a neighboring drug-store, where 
the wound was examined and found not dangerous, 
George then obtained a carriage. 

The loss of considerable blood had quite sobered, as well 
as very much weakened, the poor creature. 

“ Where shall I direct the driver ? ” George asked, after 
placing him comfortably in. 

Sefton gave the desired answer, and then, turning in- 
quiringly to George, he said : 

“ Your face is familiar. Have I ever known you? ” 

George felt a delicacy in discovering himself to the fallen 
man. So, evading the question, he said : 

“ My home is in the far West. I have just, a couple of 
hours ago, arrived in this city.” 

A few minutes’ drive brought them to their destination. 
A very small house in an obscure street. 

“ Poor Mira ! And this is her home ! This the end of 
her bright visions ! ” George said, his heart filled with pity. 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


139 


“ I may help this poor fellow in. I shall not see her, 
most likely. And, should I, she will not know me in 
this dim twilight. Besides, I must have changed very 
much. Well, I’ll risk it.” 

The driver had already pulled the hell. Just as they 
reached the step the door opened, and Mira said, in angry 
voice, “Again ! ” 

Oh, what a miserable wreck she was ! George’s heart 
ached for her. 

Noticing the pale face and bandaged brow, she asked, in 
a gentler tone : 

“Are you ill, or hurt ? ” 

And then her eyes rested on George. 

The first instant she seemed not to recognize him ; hut 
almost immediately after, with a suppressed cry, she 
grasped the door, as if for support. 

Recovering herself she pointed to an open door, and 
said to the driver : 

“ In there, please take him ! ” Then, as she was left a 
moment alone with George, she said, bitterly : 

“ You might have spared me this.” 

“ Heaven knows I would have, gladly. He was thrown 
on my hands ; I could not desert him. I thought not to 
see you.” 

He stopped to follow out and pay the driver ; a moment 
and he was back to say, 

“ The past is forgiven, Mira. Look on me as your hus- 
band’s friend, and let me prove that I am truly his and 
yours.” 

“ No, no, you cannot help me. Only go ! for mercy’s 
sake, go ! ” she cried. 

“ Then good-by, and God help you, Mira,” George said, 
sadly, and turned away. 

Little Bessie’s day’s work was done. She sat, resting 


140 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


her busy fingers, and thinking. Far across broad rivers, 
and over wide prairies, her mind wandered, while 
her eyes were lifted to a picture that hung over the 
mantel. 

She heard the door open, but did not turn, until a voice 
said, 

“A gentleman to see Miss Bessie ! ” 

With a joyous cry she sprang forward, only a few steps, 
to stop, drop the extended welcoming arms, and with a 
doubting heart, to wait his greeting. 

But it was too late; George caught her in his arms, 
saying, 

“ Oh, you dear little prude ! You are glad to see me, 
but are not quite sure it would be just proper to show 
your joy. Now, I have no such scruples, you see,” press- 
ing his lips to her clear, smooth brow. 

He drew her to a seat on the sofa, still holding her 
hand as he sat beside her. 

“Now, tell me of yourself; first, what have you been 
doing?” he asked. 

The bright face saddened, as she said, 

“ Dear aunt passed away two years ago. Since, I have 
found a home here, with a friend. She has five little girls. 
I take care of them, and teach them. This is our study- 
room, and my sanctum. They are dear, good children, 
and I am very happy here.” 

“And Mira, poor girl,” George was saying, when Bessie 
asked, 

“ Do you know of her sorrow ? ” 

“ I have just left her,” George answered ; and then he 
told her of their meeting. 

“ Yes, Mira’s life was as brief as it was brilliant,” Bessie 
said, sadly. 

“ Can nothing be done to help her ? ” George asked. 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


141 


" No ; his is a hopeless case. His mother will not let 
them suffer, either for food, fuel, or clothing. Should they 
have more, he would take it to the gaming table, or to 
obtain liquor. Now, tell me of yourself. When did you 
come ? ” Bessie said. 

“ This afternoon. And did you ask what for ? ” George 
asked, laughing. 

“ No ; that would have scarcely been polite.’ , 

“ Well, little piece of prudence and politeness, I will 
suppose you did, and therefore answer : 

“ I came, wholly and entirely, to take back to my west- 
ern home, a dear little brown-eyed girl, that I have been 
longing for, well, about seven years, I think. Now, will 
she come with me ? ” 

He had drawn her closer to him ; and, lifting the beau- 
tiful, blushing face, was looking earnestly, pleadingly into 
the soft, brown eyes, as he repeated, 

“ Will she come, Bessie ? Tell me, love ? ” 

“ With you — me ? Do you mean me ? ” she whispered, 
while he could almost hear her heart beating, nearly 
bursting, with its fulness of joy. 

“ Yes, yes, my own.” He drew her, unresisting, to his 
heart. Her head sank on his bosom, and as he pressed 
his lips to hers, he said, 

“Thank God for this blessed boon. Ah, little Bessie, 
this hour repays all the suffering, doubts and trials of the 
years gone by.” 

A few weeks after, George carried his lovely bride 
to the beautiful home he made for her, in his adopted 
State. 

Before leaving, Bessie went to bid Mira good-by. Suf- 
fering had softened the heart, once so cold and selfish. 

“ May you be happy, Bessie ; I know you will. I never 
was worthy of George’s love. If I had kept it, I should 


142 


A HEARTLESS GIRL. 


never have made him happy. You will take him my best 
wishes.” And so they parted. 

Six months more, and Philip Sefton had passed from 
earth. Naturally of a frail constitution, dissipation and 
exposure soon did its work. An illness of a few weeks 
brought a full realization of the wasted, sinful life. And 
I truly believe he became a deeply repentant man. 

Mira, with her two little children, is living with her 
husband’s mother. And though a sadder, is a much wiser 
woman. 


OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^TNDEED, I must put an end to this affair with Gus 

J- Hey wood ! I really believe the foolish fellow thinks 
I am in love with him. I promised to go with him to the 
park this afternoon. If I keep that engagement I know 
what it will result in. He will be sure to offer me his 
heart, and the big grocery store in the bargain. Then, 
when I do not seem perfectly delighted with his generosity, 
he will say lots of things, all the more unpleasant because 
true ; about my having encouraged him, and such non- 
sense. I certainly must get him off as quietly and quickly 
as possible,” said pretty Hilda Hastings. 

“ But how ? That is a question of grave consideration. 
Oh, I know ! Patsey ? Come here a moment. Patsey, if 
the door-bell rings, and it is Mr. Hey wood, just say I am 
1 not at home.’ And to keep it from being a story, I will 
run out in the garden and pick some flowers.” 

“No, miss. ’Deed, Miss Hilda, I ’clare to de Lord, I ain’t 
gwine to do no more of dat kind of work.” 

“ But you must, Patsey. Besides, it is no work at all.” 

“ It might be bad work for dis chile. ’Sides, dem days 
of sayin’ must dun past now, honey. Ef dey hadn’t, you 
don’t ketch dis chile lyin ' , ’cepts I gits better pay den I did 
last time. Den I took my Bible oafe not to do dat agin. 
’Taint not been seben weeks sence Miss Lola liked to bin 
the deaf of me. Don’t you ’member ? ” 


( 143 ) 


144 


OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 


“No, Patsey, I was in the country then. But tell me 
■while I am dressing.” 

“ Yes, honey, but I mus’ go down and put de dough to 
rise. I kin spare de time den.” 

In a marvellously short time Patsey was back again and 
began her story. 

“You know Marse Gineral Boyd ? While you was gone 
he use to cum see Miss Lola. You know she nebber was 
easy ’cept she had two or three dyin’ in lub wid her. De 
general nebber knowed she was ’gaged to Mr. Reggie 
Chauncey. Sure he didn’t know nuflin. So, when Miss 
Lola rolled dem black eyes of hern at him, he was gone. 
Lor’, honey, he was captured quicker den anybody I ever 
seed. And you knows, when middling old gemmen falls 
in lub, they’re heap wusser den young uns. I was hid 
’hind the foldin’-doors once, and hearn him callin’ her 1 his 
queen,’ and all de stars, and angels; and tellin’ her he 
only libed for her; and would die ef she wouldn’t be 
hissen. 

“Well, honey, folks told Miss Lola dat she better stop 
foolin’ with him, for he was sartin’ in earnest ; and dar 
was no knowin’ what he mightent do. Maybe kill himself 
and her too. So she thought ef she could jiss keep away 
from him until she could git ready, den she’d go off to de 
country, and so git rid of him. So she sent down word as 
how she was sick, two or free times. De lor’s ! dat maked 
de case wus, cause he went off, and arter a while dey comes 
’bout a cart-load of flowers, and oranges, and lemons, and 
jellies, and ’serves, and books, and papers, and cologne- 
bottles, and picters of angels and lubbers, and ebery ting 
dat heart could wish. Miss Lola knowed she mus’ git well 
sure, and stop dat kind of doings. 

“Jest about dat time she got a letter sayin’ Mister Reg- 
gie would come home on a Friday. So dat mornin’ she 


OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 145 

told me, when de gineral cumed, to say she wasn’t 
home. 

“Well, honey, you knowed he had hern she was better. 
So he cum den, sure he was gwine to see her. 

“ Lor’, how he was fixed up ! Drest jes like as how 
he was gwine to de gov’ner’s ball. 

“ I was ready for him. But, lor’, honey, ’sted of askin’, 
like gemmen ought to, ‘ Is Miss Hartly in ? ’ bress you, 
chile, he walked right pass me into de ’ception-room, and 
took a cheer, pulled off his white kids, and den said : 

“ ‘ Let Miss Hartly know I am here.’ 

“ Dat took me back a little. I wasn’t ’pared for sich sort 
of doin’s. But I ’lected my thoughts and said : 

“ 1 Miss Hartly ain’t in.’ 

“ ‘ What ! ’ he hollered out, so fierce-like, it most took my 
bref away. 

“ 1 Miss Lola, sir, ain’t in,’ I said. And den he snapped 
his eyes, and grit his teeth so, dat I was skeer’d right out 
of my senses ; and I said : 

“ ’ Deed ain’t she, ’cause she told me to tell you so — ’ 

“ Den he jumped up, and walked up and down de floor, 
lookin’ awful scarey. He stopped at last, and said : 

“ ‘Go / tell Miss Hartly, I am waitin’ to see her.’ 

“ Lor’, I knowed better den to go. I knowed de kind of 
angel Miss Lola is when she’s mad. So I folds my arms 
and looks at him in a ’sided way ; like ef I wasn’t to be 
scared ; and said : 

“ ‘ How I gwine to tell her ef she ain’t in ? ’ 

Go ! ’ he hollered agin. But I didn’t move a step. 

“ Den he cums down a little with his voice, and putting 
his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a great roll of notes ; 
and takes out a clean, new one — it looked monsus big, like 
it mote a bin a hundred dollars — and he said : 


146 OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 

“ ‘ Here, take my message to Miss Lola, and you shall 
has dis.’ 

“ Hi, honey, dat man thought he had me den. I did 
want de money, but I wasn’t gwine to be caught in a lie 
for nuffin he could gim me. So I said : 

“ ‘ Don’t know whar to find her ! She’s out.’ 

“ ‘ It’s a lie ! ’ he hollered. 

“ ‘ Den it tain’t none of mine,’ I said. I was gittin’ tired 
of standing dere, foolin’ my time with him ; and maybe 
de turkey mote be burning. So I started to go out, when 
he wus than hollered out : 

“ l Come bach ! ’ 

“ De lor’s ! I come, like one of dese ingun rubber balls, 
bounced like. 

“ ‘ I shall remain until I see Miss Hartly,’ he said, settin’ 
his teeth tight. 

“ Den I thought how it was ’bout time for Mister Reggie 
to be cornin’. I knowed I’d better get the gineral off ’fore 
he ’rived. So I says : 

“ ‘ ’ Tain’t wuff while for you to waste your time. She 
said she wasn’t in, and I jest be willin’ to swear she’ll keep 
sayin’ it long as you stays. So dar ! ’ 

“ ‘ Go ! Find her, and say I must see her, for five 
minutes only,’ he said, kinder a pleadin’-like. 

“‘Gineral, I can’t leave dis house. I’se gettin’ de 
dinner,’ I said, goin’ back to my fust lie. 

“ Den he come up to me, jess takin’ ’bout two steps to 
get clare ’cross dat big room, to whar I stood by de door ; 
and what he might hab done to me, I don’t know. He 
looked awful dangeous, with his eyes lookin’ jes like fire, 
and his false teeth shining, jest like a tiger’s, I reckon. I 
never seed one, dough. I thought he was gwine to commit 
suetside on me. But, thank the bressed Lord, jest at dat 
minit Mister Reggie rung de bell ; and comes in rite after. 


OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 147 

“ 1 Where is Miss Lola, Patsey ? ’ he said. And, bress 
you, honey, Gineral Boyd answered, ’fore I could get my 
breff after de scare he gib me. 

“ • Miss Hartly is not in. I have bin waitin’ considerbel 
time. It seems she is not expected to return to-day,’ he said, 
lookin’ at me, with a awful spiteful look in his eyes. 

“ Coarse, you know, ef she wasn’t out, as he knowed she 
wasn’t, how could she be ’spected back ? 

“ So Mister Reggie said : 

“ ‘ Is that so, Patsey ? ’ 

“ My marster ! I nebber was in sich a scrape afore. 

“ I knowed Miss Lola would ’ most kill me ef I let de one 
she wanted to see go; and I didn't know but how de 
gineral would ’hole kill me; and maybe massacree all 
three of us, and himself too. So I ’termined to take my 
chance with Miss Lola, and I said : 

“ ‘ Dat’s so. She ain’t ’spected home to-day.’ 

“ Lor’, den he was up ! mad as a March hare, and said, 
wid an awful black look : 

“ 1 Say to Miss Lola, I had only an hour on shore. De 
vessel sails dis artemoon.’ So he went; off sure ! I 
thought of running after him. But, honey, dat man gim 
me one look — it was nuff for me. ’Deed, I believe he had 
jes as leef kill me den, as eat. I stayed where I was. 
Down he sot. I smelt dat turkey burnin’, and started 
agin for de door. 

“ 1 Remain ! ’ he yelled, like a Ingun. So den, I stayed agin. 
And he sot himself down, and stayed too. Both stayed. 
It was getten dinner-time fast ; and I ’spected every minit 
to hear de folks cornin’. All de men folks was away to 
der offices ; and de gineral knowed it, or I don’t believe he 
would have acted so. 

“ I was awful oneasy ’bout dinner. So I thought maybe 
I could ’peal to his heart; so I says: 

9 


148 OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 

“ 1 Smell de turkey, gineral ? It’s burnin’, sartin ! ’ 

“Notone word did he say; jes gim me another look. 
Den I sot myself down, ’termined to take it easy, and let 
Miss Lola take de consequinces. Well, honey, jest as de 
clock struck three he got up, and says : 

“ ‘ I think it probabil dat vessel has leff by dis time , and 
now I HI leeve you. Say to Miss Hartly, the time may 
come when I shill find her, if not home, elsewhere. And 
I shill find dat one she wanted to see. Dar is one man too 
many in dis world, jes now.’ And, lookin’ like a thunder 
gust, he went out, and slamed de door arter him. 

“ Den I went to de turkey ; it was blacker den de cook. 
’Fore I gits it on de dish, Miss Lola come down. Lor’, I 
had de cannon’s mouf pinted ’fore me for two hours, so I 
wasn’t so bad scared when Miss Lola come like a bundle 
of firecrackers. How she did snap, and go for me ! Den 
she cried, ’cause she didn’t see de one she wanted to. Den ’ 
she flew at me agin ; callin’ me ebery name but a lady, and 
ebery color but white. Den she dropped down, ’most tired 
to deaf. 

“ Den I told what the gineral said, ’bout bein’ one man 
too many. And den she begun agin. I tried to quiet her 
by sayin’ Mister Reggie would be off to sea, and de gineral 
couldn’t get at him ; and maybe , by de time he got home 
agin, de gineral would be out of de way — meaning in de 
next world. 

“ Miss Lola didn’t feel no better ’bout it ; and heap wuss 
when her aunt said : 

“ ‘And it will sarve you jest right if Reggie finds some 
one else to gib his heart to ’fore dat time. Sailor boys ain’t 
not givin to keepin 1 to one lub long.’ 

“ Den she cried agin, and agin. Well, dat evenin’ she 
leff, and went down to her sister’s ; and she’s feared to 
come back. Gineral Boyd is prowlin’ around, watchin’ 
for her; so my ole man says. 


OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE. 149 

“ Lor’, I must run now to de dough. ’Spects it’s leff de 
pans. Dat’s doin’ better den dat turkey did. Wish dat 
had leff de oven f 

“ Dar’s de bell. I knows Mr. Heywood’s ring. What 
mus’ I say ? Any words but 1 not in,’ Miss Hilda.” 

“ Never mind, Patsey, I will go see him myself. I will 
end this flirtation the best way I can. I know it is very 
wrong, and I am quite tired of it. So, Patsey, I will not 
tell even a white lie.” 

“ Dat’s so, Miss Hilda. I didn’t tell none, neither. I 
only 'peated it. So it was no colored lie, either ; ’cause it 
wasn’t mine.” 

“Well, Patsey, ask Mr. Heywood in. Perhaps, as he is 
not an old lover , we shall not have quite so hard a time 
getting rid of him. At any rate, in the future, I will try 
to be honest and true.” 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 


BY FRANCES IIENSHAW BADEN. 

WO young girls were seated in a bay-window, on one 



X of the most fashionable streets in P , evidently 

watching the coming of some one. 

“ Now look, Flory ! He is coming on the opposite side. 
You cannot mistake. He is the finest-looking man that 
has passed since we have been here. Now, directly 
opposite. Who can he be ? I’d give a jewel to know ! ” 

“ Really, Irene ! ” 

“ Really and truly. Tell me his name, his fame, and 
introduce me, and either ring on my fingers now, or this 
locket is yours,” Irene Grainger said, with a merry laugh. 

“ Well, the first two I can immediately. The last is 
more difficult. Still, we can manage it, I think. But, 
Rena, pet, tell me why it is that you, who never yet have 
felt Cupid’s dart, and have sent off a dozen of despairing 
lovers, why are you interested in this stranger ? ” 

“ Flory, I’m not so sure he is a perfect stranger. His 
face haunts me day and night. Then, I have watched 
him passing here for weeks, indeed months. I have 
gotten so used to seeing him, I am disappointed if, at the 
accustomed hour, he comes not. You must admit he is a 
splendid-looking man. You rarely see one his equal.” 

“Well, my dear, you have danced with him a dozen 
times and more — stop, before you went to Europe it was — 
yes, quite ten years ago. Again, you have been to his 


( 150 ) 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 151 

home less than six months ago ; and, to finish the chap- 
ter, his sisters were at your last party.’’ 

“ No ! Oh, do not keep me in suspense ! Who is he ? ” 

“ Hugh Carlyle.” 

11 No ; impossible ! I remember the little lad perfectly, 
at dancing school. Oh, how very, very much he has 
improved! But, why, Flory, has he never called? Why 
was he not at my party ? I left his invitation. And why 
have I not seen him in his home ? ” 

“ One answer, my dear Rena, will do for all your ques- 
tions : his mother and three sisters are entirely dependent 
on him. That is the reason he has to forego all such 
pleasures.” 

“ Now, Flory, it would cost nothing to call and see a 
friend, at any rate, or look in on one while visiting his 
sister.” 

“ Yes, my dear, it might cost a great deal of heart-ache . 
Now, Rena, I’ll tell you. His mother told me in confi- 
dence; here it is. Hugh does not go in young ladies’ 
society, because he has no hope of being able to marry for 
years, if ever . Should he visit them, his heart is not iron- 
clad, he might grow to love, and possibly win a return 
from some fair maiden.” 

“ Well, that would not be very dreadful, Flory.” 

“ Well, what then ? ” 

“ Why, try to win the girl, and marry her, of course.” 

“ Rena, it is with only the severest economy he can 
support his loved ones. How could he a larger family ? ” 

“ Few men would think of that. What a grand fellow 
he must be ! And what a great sacrifice he makes 
for those dear to him ! Oh, I wish I knew him ! If I 
only , only could lift that heavy burden from his young 
life ! What can I do ? ” 

“ Nothing, dear.” 


152 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 


“ Yes, I will. And where there is a will there is a way ; 
and I will find it. Here is your ring. But, remember, 
you are to help me when I ask it.” 

“ Willingly. But what is it? Your face is perfectly 
radiant.” 

“ Oh ! I’ve hit it ! ” exclaimed the merry girl ; springing 
up, she danced and clapped her hands, as a gleeful 
child might. 

“Oh, don’t ask me yet, Flory, love. Just touch that 
bell. I will tell you just this much — as sure as I live, 
within the next six months, Hugh Carlyle shall be 
entirely relieved from his burden, and be a free man, to 
do as he pleases.” 

“ Did you ring, Miss Grainger ? ” asked a man-servant, 
entering the drawing-room. 

“Yes, Robert; I want you to ask Mrs. Baker to come 
here.” 

In a few moments after a bright, pleasant-looking 
woman entered, and Irene asked : 

“ Mrs. Baker, what does my uncle pay you for making 
the lightest bread, muffins and cake ; the best coffee, tea 
and chocolate ; broiling his steaks, and, in a word, doing 
everything to perfection, and making him generally com- 
fortable ? ” 

“ Twenty dollars a month, miss.” 

“Very well. Now, pay particular attention, please. I 
will give you forty to give us, for one month, the heaviest 
bread and cake ; the poorest tea, coffee and chocolate ; to 
dry, or burn, all meats, game and fowl, and to make us 
generally uncomfortable. And more, be sure to give us 
breakfast an hour early, dinner an hour late. Uncle hates 
to get up sooner than his regular hour, and goes in a rage 
when dinner is not served at six.” 

“ Oh ! miss, how can I ? How dare I ? ” the astonished 
woman began, to be stopped by Irene, saying; 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 153 

“Dear Mrs. Baker, it is for my uncle’s ultimate good. 
I will defend you from any serious consequence — stand 
all the damages. And — yes — give you the dress you 
hinted for so outrageously this morning. Is it a bar- 
gain ? ” 

“ Yes, miss. Of course, you always will have your wa}\” 

“All right; that will do. Do not look so wildly. You 
will know all about it in good time.” 

When the door closed after the bewildered housekeeper, 
Flory exclaimed : 

“ Irene Grainger, are you crazy ? What are you up to ? ” 

“ Come to tea with us two weeks from to-day and I’ll 
let you peep into the future,” Irene said, with a merry 
twinkle in her eye. 

At the desired time Flory was seated at the tea-table 
with Irene and her uncle — an old bachelor — with whom 
the merry girl had lived since the death of her father, five 
years before the time of our story. 

Uncle John was the brother of Irene’s father. Long ago 
he had retired from business life, satisfied that a million 
and a half would last him the remainder of his days and 
leave his niece a pleasant little remembrance. Irene pos- 
sessing in her own right five hundred thousand dollars, 
was of course a star of great magnitude in fashionable 
society. 

As uncle John drew his fchair closer, he glanced anx- 
iously over the table. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, he 
said : 

“ Irene, my dear, I do not know how you had the cour- 
age to bring your friend to tea. Why did you not send an 
order to Taylor’s ? Florence, my dear, we have not had a 
decently cooked meal for two weeks. I don’t know what 
the thunder has gotten into Baker. She used to be the 
most admirable cook 1 ” 


154 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 


Florence glanced comically at Irene, who said, de- 
murely : 

“ Uncle, it is a general complaint now. And you know 
I understand nothing about such things. But I fancy 
Baker is thinking about getting married ; and you know, 
when a body is in love they are not responsible. 

“ Flory, my dear, take a muffin.” 

“ Don’t /” exclaimed uncle John, who had just broken 
one on his plate. “Don't, my dear ! Confusion ! I’d no 
more eat that than take a .dose of strychnine ! Robert, 
remove these dishes, every one ! Then go to Taylor’s and 
have them send up supper for three as soon as possible ! 
I will not stand this another day ! I shall die of dyspep- 
sia ! I’ll break up housekeeping — go to boarding — I will ! 
I’ll do something desperate!” And uncle John brought 
his fist with such force on the table as to make the deli- 
cate Sevres china shake and tremble. 

“ Uncle, suppose you try matrimony ! ” Irene said, de- 
murely. 

“ What? ” snapped uncle John. 

“ Get married yourself. Then you will have a house- 
keeper who will take an interest in your establishment 
and in making you generally happy,” Irene said in so 
earnest a tone that her uncle replied : 

“Upon my word, one would suppose you in earnest, 
child!” 

“ I never was more so in my life, uncle. I think it quite 
time your life should have some recompense. All these 
years you have been making others happy. Now it’s time 
some one was making you so.” 

“ Now, child, who do you suppose would have me — a 
crusty old bachelor of sixty-five ? ” 

“I would,” Flory answered, quickly, “if I had not 
already promised somebody else. You are not old nor 


LIFTING HIS BUKDEN. 155 

crusty ; and you are handsomer now than half the men 
of thirty-five ! ” 

“ Thank you, my dear,” uncle John said, with a pleased 
expression. “ I am sorry, but so it was before. The only 
time I would have married I was ‘ too late.’ Ah, me ! I 
should have been a different man had I won her. I saw a 
little girl here a few months ago that reminded me strongly 
of sweet Annie Warren.” 

“ Who was it, uncle ? ” asked Irene. 

“ I do not know her name. If I heard I have forgotten. 
A little one with soft brown hair and dove-like eyes. But 
look here, Irene. Suppose I should take you at your 
word.” 

“ Well, uncle?” 

“ Well, my dear, I imagine it would damage your pros- 
pects very much.” 

“ What do I care for that ! Never mind me, uncle. Be 
happy and you will satisfy me. Say, Flory, as long as 
you cannot have uncle, can you recommend him to some 
dear, sweet, pretty, smart, intelligent, refined woman, of 
somewhere between forty and fifty ? ” 

“ Wait a moment ! I want to add a word ! With no 
young children to divide her care with me. If she has 
children they must be grown wp,” uncle John said. 

“ Indeed, I am afraid I do not. Such a one is hard to 
find, I imagine,” Florence said. But a decided pressure 
of Irene’s little foot on hers must have brightened her 
wits, for she added, quickly : 

“Oh, yes, I do! Just such a one! I had forgotten 
Mrs. Carlyle ! ” 

“ Carlyle ! ” exclaimed uncle John. “ What is her first 
name ? Where is she from ? ” 

“ I do not know ; but I imagine she has always lived in 
P ,” Florence answered. 


156 


LIFTING HIS BUEDEN, 


“Ah, yes I Of course she cannot be the same ! There 
are hundreds of that name here. But tell me more of her, 
and how I am to find her.” 

“I will tell you, uncle. She is in every way lovely. 
She has a son and three grown daughters. The son is a 
book-keeper, and supports his mother and sisters. They 
live just as cosily and as comfortable as can be, so you 
know she must be an excellent manager. You can see 
her; then, if you do not fancy her, you can look fur- 
ther.” 

“ But how am I to see her ? That is the point of con- 
sideration now ! ” 

“ Let me think. I’ll find a way. Wait, Flory ; don’t 
say a word yet.” And Irene’s little hand covered her 
eyes. Her head was bowed in deep thought a few 
moments. Then she cried out, triumphantly : 

“ I have it ! Uncle, you said yesterday you were think- 
ing of purchasing that property on Mason street, and you 
were going to have the title examined.” 

“ Yes. But what the thunder has this to do with the 
widow ? ” 

“ I will tell you, uncle. Hugh Carlyle has studied law. 
Old Mr. Capperton is out of town. Get the widow’s son 
to examine the records for you, write the deed, and so on. 
He has leisure hours occasionally, and just now business 
is very dull. You can ‘kill two birds with one stone’ — 
see the mother and give the son a lift. Now call early 
to-morrow afternoon. Ask for Mr. Carlyle. Of course he 
will not be home. Then ask for Mrs. Carlyle, and explain 
why you wish to see her son, and ask when he will be at 
home ; giving yourself excuse for another speedy call. 
Don’t you see? You can tell her that Miss Flory Harper 
recommended your obtaining Mr. Carlyle’s services while 
your lawyer was absent. Now what do you think of 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 157 

that ? ” asked Irene, jumping up and clapping her uncle’s 
shoulder. 

“ Tip-top, Irene ! You ought to be Secretary of State ; 
supervisor of ‘ ways and means ’ for the whole United 
States ! I will do it, by Jove ! ” 

“And I will call for you when Flory and I return from 
our drive to-morrow afternoon ! Ah ! here is our supper ! 
Oh, how delicious it looks ! Uncle, what did you say this 
morning about cooks ? ” Irene asked, mischievously. 

“I said ‘the Lord sends the food and the devil the 
cooks ’ — that is, the latter generally, but not the one that 
got up this supper ! ” 

The next afternoon, agreeable to arrangement, uncle 
John presented himself at Mrs. Carlyle’s. Irene, thinking 
an hour quite long enough for a first call, ordered the 
driver to stop by, according to promise. 

Imagine her surprise when, in answer to the bell, came 
her uncle, with a perfectly beaming face, and called : 

“ Come, girls, come in ! I am not ready to go yet ! ” 

“ ’Pon my word, Rena, your plan is working admirable. 
The old gentleman seems very much at home ! Do let us 
go in and see how affairs are progressing,” said Flory. 

Uncle John, in the meantime, has returned to the parlor. 
On the girls’ entry, he jumped up from Mrs. Carlyle’s side, 
and catching Irene in his arms, exclaimed : 

“ Bless your dear little heart ! You may go right off and 
get that set of diamonds you were teasing for ! Do you 
know what you have done? Just made me the happiest 

fellow in P . Here, child, this is Annie Warren you 

have heard me speak of. And that was her daughter I saw 
at your party. I have told her the truth, the whole truth, 
and nothing but the truth. And there is no need of my 
having an excuse to call again. I am to come when I 
choose, and as often.” 


158 LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 

“ I must thank you, Miss Grainger, for your very flattering 
opinion of me,” Mrs. Carlyle said, a bright flush mantling 
her still beautiful face. 

“ Please don’t — nor call me Miss Grainger. To you I 
must be Irene only, now. Uncle, if you are to return this 
evening, I guess I can take you away now.” 

“All right ! Annie, you don’t know what a little tyrant 
she is. Never mind, miss, your reign will soon be over ! ” 
uncle said, with a merry chuckle. 

Irene and Flory, after bidding good-by, hurried out, the 
former saying, with a merry little laugh, 

“We must let the young lover have a private farewell- 
taking.” 

When uncle John was seated beside Irene, she asked : 

“ Well, what about the business? — the deed and necessary 
papers ? ” 

“Well, my dear, the business is attended to, to my 
perfect satisfaction. The deed is done. The papers will be 
attended to this day one month.” 

“What! What are you talking about? You did not 
see Mr. Carlyle. And it was just impossible to write a 
deed in that time, I know that much ! ” Irene said, with a 
bewildered look in her bright eyes. 

“Nevertheless ’tis so. I explained my real business. 
She was willing. The deed is my engagement to the only 
woman I ever loved — my marriage to take place the tenth 
of next month. Now, what have you to say?” 

“That you are certainly the fastest man of the time, 
and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to court a woman 
the very first call — ” 

“Ah, my dear, I remembered when I was too slow. And 
I was determined not to be too late this time ! ” 

“ There, uncle, there is my hand ! You are a man after 
my own heart. I hope you will live to be a hundred, and 
as happy as that dear little woman can make you.” 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 


159 


“Well, my dear, the ways of Providence are wonderful. 
Who would have dreamed Baker’s miserable cooking 
would have ended in so much happiness ? I expected it 
would have ended in killing me rather. Shall we stop by, 
and order supper from Taylor’s ? ” 

u No, uncle, I feel as if Mrs. Baker would do better now. 
I will speak to her when we get in,” Irene answered, with 
a sly twinkle in her eye, as she looked at Flory. 

A short time after, Irene had an interview with Mrs. 
Baker, which resulted in that worthy woman being released 
from the contract which had been so very trying to her. 
Irene paid the promised twenty dollars, and divulged part 
of the little plot to her faithful ally — this much, her uncle’s 
speedy marriage. 

There was a quiet little wedding at Mrs. Carlyle’s, after 
which the happy pair left for the wedding tour. 

Irene whispered, as the carriage bore them away : 

“ Six weeks , Flory, instead of six months, and you find 
Hugh Carlyle a free man.” 

“ How long he shall remain so, is a subject you will take 
into consideration next, if I mistake not, and then I am 
going to turn ‘ state’s evidence,’ ” Flory said, laughingly. 

Uncle John, very grateful to Irene for his great happiness, 
thought one good turn deserved another, so he went to 
work to try match-making. Hugh no longer thought it 
necessary to keep out of ladies’ society, so he gave himself 
up, with a good will, to the enjoyment he had been so long 
denied. 

Uncle John constantly was making some plan to bring 
Hugh and Irene together. Tickets for the opera, theatre, 
and concerts, were continually placed in Hugh’s hand, 
and he would say : 

“ Do, my dear boy, take that girl off my hands.” 

And on one occasion, he added : 


160 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 


“ I declare, Rena, you will have to get a younger fellow 
to trot ’round now. Besides, I’ve got another little woman 
to look after.” 

Then Hugh, who had grown light-hearted and merry 
since the weight of care had been lifted from his heart, 
answered : 

“And since a little woman that once belonged to me has 
robbed Miss Grainger of her escort, it should be my duty 
and privilege to make up for the loss as much as 
possible.” 

And so the young people were very much together. 
But, after a while, there came a change over Hugh. He 
grew gloomy and despondent. 

Irene had but little doubt of the cause. She felt well 
assured of Hugh’s love ; every look, every action speaking 
what the lips dared not breathe forth. So she determined 
again to lighten his heart. 

“ Hugh, what troubles you ? For weeks I have not seen 
a smile wreathe your lips. You ought to be happy when 
every one around you is so. Do tell me what it is?” 
Irene plead. 

“I am not sure that it is a story you would like to 
hear,” Hugh answered, lifting his eyes searchingly to 
hers. 

“ Then, from this moment, be perfectly sure that every- 
thing concerning your happiness is of deep interest to me,” 
Irene answered. And I am afraid this was very much like 
doing a little of the courting herself ; in fact, rather forcing 
the question. 

Hugh left her side a moment, and walked to the window. 
He must escape from the weakness coming over him. 
How dare he speak of love to her ? He without a dollar 
ahead in the world, and she the possessor of immense 
wealth. No, he would leave her presence with his secret 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 161 

still his own. He had resolved this when the persistent 
little witch called : 

“ Hugh!” 

Alas for resolves ! He was by her side in an instant. 

“ I am waiting,” she said. 

“ Miss Grainger, if a man was blind or mad enough to 
love one far above him — ” 

“Stop, please! If he is honorable and true, how can 
she be above him ? ” Irene asked. 

“ The w^orld would say so. He is poor, and she wealthy. 
Such being the case, dare he speak his love ? ” His voice 
was full of emotion ; his beautiful eyes eagerly striving to 
read hers. 

“ Yes. If she is a true woman, his dear love would be 
more to her than all the gold that earth can give,” Irene 
answered, her face crimsoning as she dropped her eyes 
from his ardent gaze. 

“ Miss Grainger — Irene — would it be to you?” 

Irene’s eyes were raised to his, then, full of truth and 
love. Hugh needed no other answer. As he drew her 
closer, and pressed his lips to the beautiful blushing cheek, 
he said : 

“Oh, my darling, I have loved you ever since those 
merry days of dancing-school.” 

“And I you, Hugh, since you began to pass here every 
day. But I do think you might have told me long ago, 
and not obliged me to do more than my share of the 
courting, and actually I am not sure that I did not pro- 
pose!” Irene said, with a bewitching little frown that was 
more than half a smile. 

Just then, a little tap at the door preceded Flory’s 
entrance. With one glance she took in the situation, and 
cried merrily : 

“ Now is my time to turn 1 state’s evidence,’ as I 


162 


LIFTING HIS BURDEN. 


threatened long ago. Hugh, my dear friend, you have 
been entrapped, so was your dear mother before you. 
Now listen, for 

“ ‘ I’ve something sweet to tell you/ 
sang the merry girl. 

So she did tell, from that day at the window straight 
along, the whole story, notwithstanding Irene’s frequent 
attempts to stop her. 

“ God bless you, my darling, for this happy day, and 
grant me the power of making you as happy as you 
deserve,” Hugh murmured low, when Flory had stopped 
her teasing and turned away. 

Uncle John insisted on Hugh’s resigning his position as 
book-keeper, and open a law office. So he did, and the 
kind old gentleman is giving him business sufficient to 
bring him quite a handsome income. 

A few months after, there was a double wedding at 
Trinity Church. Uncle John gave the brides away; and 
never lovelier or happier brides than Irene and Flory ever 
wore the wedding-ring. 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


BY FRANCES IIENSHAW BADEN. 

S HE had such a sweet, fair face, with an expression of 
perfect candor and truth, that it would seem impossi- 
ble to doubt her. Yet George Peyton did, and said : 

“ It is difficult not to believe one’s own eyes, Fannie. I 
saw you walking with him, leaning on his arm, and listen- 
ing with unmistakable pleasure to his words. Can you 
deny this ? ” 

“ No, I cannot. But a girl can walk with a gentleman, 
and listen with pleasure to his words — ” 

“ Not without being careless, to say the least, of others’ 
feelings. And if so, then false to one that she has prom- 
ised to love only, of all the world — ” 

“ How can you talk so to me ? How can you doubt me, 
George ? Again I tell you that Edgar Mowbray cares not 
for me. There is another girl in this house to love besides 
me. You forget Annie is no longer a child.” 

“Enough, Fannie. Promise me you will see him no 
more, and I will believe you.” 

“Why, George, I cannot do that. How can I avoid 
seeing him, when uncle and aunt receive him, and think 
so much of him ? Let me tell you all about it.” 

“ Excuse me, Miss Melton. That you have no regard 
for my wishes is sufficient to prove to me the truth of my 
surmises. Allow me to wish you much happiness, and 
good-evening.” 

10 


( 163 ) 


164 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


And the miserable, jealous man turned and left Fannie, 
who stood as if she was not perfectly sure that she was 
not just awakened from a frightful dream. 

“Well, I knew he was jealous; but never dreamed him 
so frightfully unreasonable. I will write and explain it 
all to him to-night. Poor fellow ! he is miserable enough,” 
thought Fannie. But after a little a second thought came. 
Pride whispered, “ No, let him come back penitent. He 
should have more confidence in you.” And so Fannie 
listened, and acted on pride’s suggestion. 

The next morning, while she was watching and listen- 
ing to every step, hoping her lover would come, that 
young gentleman had stepped into a jeweller’s to get some 
repairs done to his watch. While waiting for it, one of 
the clerks, with whom George had some slight acquain- 
tance, was giving some orders relative to the marking of a 
ring. It was a very handsome diamond solitaire which 
the clerk held for George’s inspection, saying : 

“I wonder if this is an engagement ring? Mowbray — 
you know him, do you not ? — purchased it a little while 
ago. Where did I put that slip of paper with the initials? ” 
he asked, looking about the counter. 

“ I have it,” replied a young man near ; and continued : 
“ But really, I think you better not make a public thing 
of this. Perhaps — in fact, generally, gentlemen do not 
care to have these little affairs so freely spoken of.” 

“ Oh, sure enough ! You are right ! I did not think ! 
You’ll excuse me, Mr. Peyton. However, I suppose it is 
a matter of no interest to you,” the gentleman replied, 
turning from the prudent young clerk to Mr. Peyton. 

“Certainly not,” George answered; received his watch 
and left the store, convinced then that Fannie was false. 
He felt confident that the man who had withheld the 
initials from his knowledge had some idea of his former 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


165 


relation to the lady, and consequently his motive for doing 
so. Full of wrath, he returned home, bundled up Fannie’s 
letters, picture, and sundry little keepsakes, and sent them 
to her, with a note saying that “ Miss Melton would oblige 
him by either destroying or returning to his address, 
letters and other articles which he had given her.” Then 
telling his mother and sister he was going on pressing 
business out West, packed his trunk and started. 

Reaching his place of destination, he found there a party 
of young friends who were about starting for California. 
They urged and insisted on his accompanying them. 
Glad of any excuse to keep him from home and divert his 
mind, the reckless fellow agreed to their proposal, and 
went with' them. 

In the meantime Fannie began to think that George 
Peyton never really loved her, and was anxious for some 
plea for withdrawing his suit. And if she found pleasure 
in the society of the handsome Mowbray, and began to 
compare his candid, noble nature with George’s, in a very 
unfavorable light to the latter, was it any wonder ? 

While in San Francisco George received a letter from 
his sister, in which she wrote : 

“ Mr. Mowbray is a very constant visitor at Mr. Melton’s. 
But, now I think of it, he was before you left ; so you 
know all about his hopes and aspirations. She is a dear, 
sweet girl, and I hope will be very happy. Rumor says 
Mr. Melton is not very well pleased — that he had other 
views for her. There is no engagement proclaimed as yet. 
George, I cannot think what made you fly off from us in 
such haste. Somehow I cannot divest my mind from the 
idea that Fannie was the cause. I had thought she would 
be something nearer and dearer to me than a friend.” 

George threw down the letter with an impatient gesture, 
and said bitterly : 

“ Yes, Mr. Melton always favored me, and I believe he 


166 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


is my warm friend. Oh, I could not have thought she 
would be so false. Nothing but my own eyes, her words, 
and — well, indeed, everything else — the occurrence in the 
jeweller’s, and now Katy’s letter, would have convinced 
me. Well, well, I can never trust in woman again.” 

He felt very miserable, and longed to confide his grief 
to some one. His most particular friend, Will Austin, 
was with him. George was very much attached to him, 
and so made him his confidant. Will listened attentively 
until George had fully relieved his mind and heart, and 
then he said : 

“ George, I think you were very hasty, and very much 
to blame. And if the young lady has cast you from her 
heart, and learned to care for this Mowbray, it is all your 
own fault. You were very unreasonable. But, pshaw! 
what jealous person was ever possessed of any reason ? ” 

His friend’s plain talk did George good, and he grew 
somewhat reasonable after it. And his thoughts flew 
back to the time when he first knew Fannie ; of the many 
gentlemen who sought the love that he had won ; of the 
gentleness with which she bore with his whims ; how she 
had yielded to his wishes — all save the one, which then, 
he felt, had been very unreasonable. And when she was 
most likely lost to him, she grew dearer. And so he 
resolved to return, perhaps before it was too late. Nearly 
three months had elapsed since he left home, when he 
determined to return as speedily as possible. When on 
the eve of starting he received a letter, in which Katy 
wrote : 

“In my last I gave you all the particulars of the 
wedding. Mr. Melton seems quite reconciled to the 
happy Mowbray. Fannie looks miserable. I really 
believe she did care for you. They have all gone travel- 
ling, and intend being absent during the warm weather.” 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


167 


The letter spoken of by Katy had never reached George. 
Fate willed it so — and he was not sorry. It was agony 
enough to know she was lost to him, without reading the 
minute details of his rival’s happiness. Poor fellow ! he 
could not remain content anywhere then. He travelled 
from one place to another, endeavoring, by excitement 
and constant change of scene, to forget Fannie. From the 
quiet mountain retreats he would fly to some crowded, 
fashionable resort, until at length he visited Saratoga. 

The next morning he sauntered into the office and 
began looking over the new arrivals. Several familiar 
names, persons from his own city, met his eyes. And 
then, a little further down the page, came those, of all 
persons in the world, the most undesirable for him to 
meet — Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Mowbray, Mr. Henry Melton 
and daughter. 

Hurrying back to his room, he determined to keep out 
of sight until the next train, and leave in that for his 
home. He could not meet them — see her the wife of 
another. He was not well, and was beginning to feel 
quite anxious to get back to his mother and sister. When 
the time came for the train to start, poor George’s head 
was aching so terribly he could not stand up; so, of 
course, he had to give up the idea of leaving then, and 
wait until the next day. He grew worse rapidly. The 
morning found him really very ill. Some friend, missing 
him all the previous day, went to his room in search of 
him, and found the poor fellow with a raging fever, and 
quite delirious. He summoned the proprietor and his 
wife, who procured the services of a physician. Very soon 
the Meltons heard of George Peyton’s being so near them 
and ill. They were very attentive ; indeed, most of their 
time was devoted to him. Many days had passed before 
George was out of danger. Awakening one morning from 
a refreshing sleep, his mind then quite clear, he caught a 


168 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


glance of Fannie as she flitted from the room. Mr. Melton 
remained, and endeavored, in his kind, genial way, to 
cheer George. The days of his convalescing were many. 
Indeed he grew better very slowly. Annie, her father, 
and Mr. Mowbray were constantly with him ; the latter, if 
possible, more attentive than the others. George tried to 
feel very grateful, but he could not feel right toward him. 
How could he be expected to ? His manner was always 
reserved, and really cold. Mowbray felt it, and one day 
he determined to speak to George about it. So, seizing 
the first good opportunity, he said : 

“ Peyton, you try hard to hide your feelings ; but I can 
see plain enough you do not like me. And I’d like to 
know the reason ? ” 

George looked at him, a world of reproach in his eyes 
as he answered : 

“ Mr. Mowbray, if you have detected my true feelings I 
regret it because of } r our recent kindness. But this is a 
subject I would prefer not conversing upon. I have 
sought to avoid it, and should think the desire would be 
mutual.” 

“ Now, upon my soul, I do not know what you mean. I 
only know you dislike me. And really, I should think 
you might try not to, a little, for my wife’s sake. Here 
she has been as devoted as a sister to you all the days of 
your illness. I declare, I’ll carry her off home, and leave 
you to remorse, if you don’t feel a little pleasanter toward 
me, or explain in what way I have merited your 
aversion.” 

George thought his mind was getting very much clouded 
again. He could not, to save him, call to mind Fannie’s 
ever being near him but the one time when he had seen 
her dart from the room. Then he thought, could it be 
possible that Mowbray never knew of his engagement to 
Fannie? It must be. She had deceived him about it, 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


169 


or he never could talk thus to a former lover of his wife’s. 
If so, Mowbray was in no way to blame, and he really had 
no just cause to dislike him. Putting out his hand, he 
said : 

“ Mr. Mowbray, will you forgive me ? I feel sure now 
I have no cause to feel other than most kindly toward you. 
Please do not allude to this subject again. And will you 
express my thanks to Mrs. Mowbray for her kindness? 
I must have been most of the time during my illness quite 
out of my mind. I never remember to have seen Mrs. 
Mowbray but once in my room.” 

Edgar Mowbray grasped his hand warmly, but gave a 
very searching look at the invalid, to see if he was quite 
right in mind then. 

Just then the door opened, and Edgar Mowbray 
exclaimed : 

“Ah, here she is now ! Annie, come here and talk to 
your charge.” 

u Here who is ? ” cried George, wildly. 

“Annie, my wife,” answered Mowbray, springing up, 
and turning a bowl of crushed ice into a towel and 
applying it to George’s head, whispered to Annie : 

“ Fly for the doctor ! He is terribly ill again.” 

“ Say it again. Annie — not Fannie — your wife ? ” cried 
George. 

“ Yes ; Annie is my wife, certainly. Run for the doctor, 
love.” 

But little Annie was wiser than her husband. She knew 
who would be the most successful physician for George, 
who murmured : 

“ Thank God ! ” And, overcome by his extreme weak- 
ness and great emotion, fainted. 

Annie was not alarmed. She explained the mystery to 
her husband. And after seeing George restored again to 
consciousness, hastened out to tell Fannie. 


170 


A SEVERE LESSON. 


When she returned to George again, he whispered : 

“ Entreat Fannie to come to me, or I must go to her. 
I will — I must see her.” 

Annie went to do his bidding. And so eloquently did 
she plead for him, that in a short time she returned, 
pushed Fannie into the room, and ran away quite 
delighted. 

“ Forgive, and take me back to your heart, Fannie, or I 
shall surely die. Speak, please ; say you have not ceased 
to love me ? ” George pleaded. 

How could she resist him ? He looked so wan and ill. 
She placed her hand in his, bent over and pressed her lips 
to his white brow, and said : 

“ How could you ever have doubted me, George ? I am 
still yours, if you wish. And promise — ” 

“ Never to doubt you again, my true, faithful love ! Oh, 
I had a fearful lesson.” And then he told her of the many 
things that had happened to prove clearly to his mind that 
she was lost to him. The way his sister wrote was calcu- 
lated to deceive him, although very unintentional on her 
part. And then the manner in which their names were 
registered: “Mr. and Mrs. Mowbray, Mr. Melton and 
daughter.” Was further proof needed? 

Fannie explained everything, and the last by telling 
George one of the gentlemen of their party, only slightly 
acquainted with them, had written their names, and sup- 
posed she was really Mr. Melton’s daughter. “ You know,” 
she said, “ uncle often calls me ‘ my daughter.’ ” 

George grew rapidly well then. Love was the needed 
balm. A very few days after the joyous truth came to 
him, he was strong enough to travel home. And early in 
the fall, Fannie became his. Never again was he attacked 
with a fit of jealousy, and has become, under Fannie’s 
charge and instruction, a very sensible and reasonable 
man. 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

He prayeth well who loveth well 
Both man and beast and fowlj 

He prayeth best who loveth best 
All creatures, great and small ; 

For the good Lord, who loveth us, 

He made and loveth all. — C oleridge. 

^ TADDIE, d 0 p U t down that ugly creature. You are a 
i-J perfect beast worshipper,” said Bertha Dennison, 
the young bride, to her three weeks’ bridegroom. 

He obeyed, as bridegrooms of three weeks are apt to do ; 
but he expostulated, as husbands of all times are sure 
to do. 

“ If cherishing means worshipping, Bertha, you might 
call me a beast worshipper. And if — ” 

She interrupted him sharply. 

“ I would not mind if it was a pretty tortoise-shell 
kitten ; but a great, ugly old tabby cat 1 ” 

“ My darling !” said Edward Dennison, gravely, “ I was 
about to say, if you knew the 'reason for my being kind to 
this cat, and to all God’s poor dumb creatures that come 
in our way, you would not blame me. I could tell you 
something, Bertha. Will you listen ? ” 

She pouted, instead of answering. 

“My mother, you know, was a notable housekeeper. 
She kept her house in perfect order, and ruled everything 
in it, both animate and inanimate, except one thing — a 
young rebel of a cat, which was the torment of her life, 

( 171 ) 


172 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


through jumping up on the tea-table, licking the butter, 
stealing into the pantry, lapping the cream, and commit- 
ting divers other petty depredations abhorrent to the souls 
of careful housewives. It was but a thoughtless young 
cat, that might have grown better with time and teaching. 
But my mother declared she was out of all patience with 
her. 

“ One dark December day I came home from school, 
and found mother in our tidy kitchen, where we always 
took our meals in winter. She was busy setting the table 
for tea, and in a great passion besides. I soon saw the 
reason. The cream-jug was turned over, broken, and the 
cream spilled. Of course the young cat was the culprit, 
although she was nowhere to be seen. Mother spoke up 
suddenly and sharply : 

“ ‘ Eddie, I’ll give you a silver quarter of a dollar, if you 
will take that cat and drown her. I can never leave the 
room one minute but she is up on the table. And now 
she has gone and broken my best cream-jug. I’ll give you 
a silver quarter if you will tie a stone around her neck 
and drown her.’ 

“A silver quarter ! I walked out into the yard in search 
of the cat. I found her sitting up on top of the chicken- 
house, licking and trimming herself — for she was a vain 
little creature — in total unconsciousness of her guilt and 
impending doom. I called her, ‘Pussy, pussy, pussy!’ 
She immediately jumped down and ran joyously to me. 
I picked her up in my arms, and she greeted me with her 
poor, inarticulate, tender tones, as she rubbed her head 
against my cheek and chin. Even then my heart smote 
me for a moment for what I was going to do to her. 

“ But I hardened my heart, and trotted off toward the 
river, went upon the bridge, and found a good place for 
the deed. At that moment my good angel left me, for I 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


173 


took from my pocket the cord and stone that I had pro- 
vided, and while she was purring and playing with the 
cord, grimly tied one end of it around her neck and the 
other around the stone. ‘ It will soon be over, and after 
all, she is nothing but a cat,’ I said. And I held her over 
the bridge to drop her into the river. Then indeed she 
clung to me, and looked astonished and wild. For the 
first time she seemed to know her danger. She struggled, 
and grasped my coat with her claws and held on. But I 
pulled her away by force and threw her into the river. I 
heard the splash, and saw the water close over her. 
I hurried away from the spot, with the sickening impres- 
sion that I had done a murder. I thought of her at the 
bottom of the Potomac, suffocating to death, and I had to 
keep repeating to myself, ‘ Oh, it will soon be over with 
her. And after all, she is nothing but a cat. And besides, 
didn’t mother tell me to drown her ? 5 It would not do ; 
my heart was decidedly heavy. Never do you do a mur- 
der, Bertha. No one but a murderer knows how it 
oppresses one’s spirits. 

“ It was raining hard when I reached home. I found 
mother just where I left her, busy in the kitchen. She 
was standing at the table, slicing bread for tea. 

‘“Well, mother, I have drowned the cat,’ I said, knock- 
ing the rain-drops off my cap. 

“ ‘ What ! ’ she exclaimed, ceasing her employment, and 
poising the knife in one hand and the bread in the other, 
as she stared at me. 

“ ‘ Yes, I’ve drowned the cat; and now I want my silver 
quarter of a dollar.’ 

“‘You did!’ she said, with a look of surprise, sadness, 
and reproach on her face. 

“ ‘ Yes ; I tied a stone around her neck to sink her, and 
dropped her into the river. And you promised me a quarter 


174 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


of a dollar for doing it,’ I answered, sulkily, for I felt 
injured by her look. 

“Without a single word she put her hand into her 
pocket, drew out a silver quarter, and gave it to me, 
turning her head away. I felt more injured than before. 
What did mother mean? I only did what she told 
me. 

“ But as I was going to a concert, I tried to throw off all 
unpleasant thoughts. I dressed myself and came down 
and joined the family at tea without much appetite. 
Besides, I missed something — I missed the little cat, who 
always sat by my chair and touched me softly with her 
paw now and then, to remind me to give her a morsel. I 
gulped down my tea, and started off to Concert Hall to 
see the minstrels. And soon, seated in the front row, 
enjoying the unparalleled burlesque of song and sentiment, 
I forgot all about my deed of the evening. Or if I thought 
of it at all, it was only to laugh at myself as a sickly, sen- 
timental sort of a fellow, to think so much about drowning 
a cat. 

“After the performance I came home. It was not very 
late, yet the family had retired. I took the key from 
under the step, where it was usually hidden for any of the 
family who were out at night, and opened the kitchen 
door and went in. The stove was warm, and a night- 
lamp was burning on the table. Everything had been left 
comfortable for me, and I sat down before the fire to dry 
my wet clothes. But how empty and desolate and forlorn 
the place looked after all ! I missed something. It was 
the cat, who always slept at night on the rug in front of 
the stove ; who always welcomed me home, when I came 
in at night, by getting up and rubbing against my shins and 
purring her pleasure at seeing me. And now she was at 
the bottom of the Potomac, with a stone tied to her neck ; 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


175 


and I had thrown her there. And for a mean quarter of a 
dollar ! 

“ I got up, took the lamp, and went up-stairs to bed. But 
I could not sleep. How the wind and the rain lashed and 
beat against the windows ! How I thought of the cat at 
the bottom of the river ! ‘And she had but this one life, 
and I took that for a base quarter of a dollar,’ I said to 
myself. And oh, I would have gladly given all the boyish 
treasures I possessed in the world, if I could have brought 
her back to life. And so I lay and tossed from side to 
side, listening to the beating of the storm, and thought 
what a mean and cruel wretch I had been. 

“ Hush ! what was that ? I started, and sat up in bed 
and listened. As sure as I live, it was a scratch and a 
mew, at the kitchen door — sounds as familiar to me as the 
children’s voices ; but that I never had expected to hear 
again. Well, I have heard Thalberg and Ole Bull play > 
I’ve heard Lind and Nilsson sing ; I’ve heard the dinner- 
bell ; but of all the instrumental or vocal music I ever 
heard, none ever thrilled my soul with such delight as that 
performance on the kitchen door. 

“ In less time than it takes to tell it, I jumped out of 
bed ; and without waiting to draw on a single garment, I 
ran down-stairs, half naked, in the cold, and tore open the 
kitchen door. There stood my cat, dripping wet, with the 
cord dangling round her neck, and the empty noose. I 
saw in an instant how it was. In falling over the bridge, 
when she was thrown, the round stone had slipped from 
the noose, and the poor cat had swam ashore, and found 
her way home through night and storm. As soon as she 
saw me, she jumped in and rubbed up against my shins, 
with her poor, confiding mew, just as if I had never tried to 
drown her. I caught her up in my arms, all dripping wet 
as she was. I hugged her, kissed her, and comforted her 


176 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


in a manner that, under any other circumstances, would 
have been supremely absurd. I took her up-stairs with 
me, dried her as well as I could with my towel, and, 
all damp and cold as she was, took her to bed with 
me. 

“ Oh, how relieved I was ! How I loved that cat for 
getting out of the river and coming home ! I talked to 
her, and petted her, half of the night. I told her how 
sorry I was, and how I never would do it again. But she 
seemed perfectly indifferent to my crime and repentance, 
and only cuddled up to my bosom, and purred and sung, 
in a funny content, until we both fell asleep. 

“ In the morning, when I went down to breakfast, I 
carried the cat in my arms, and sat down with her at the 
table. 

“ ‘ Why, I thought you had drowned that cat, Eddie ! ’ 
my mother said, with a look strangely blended of pleasure 
and pain, as if she was glad the cat was alive, yet sorry 
that her boy had deceived her and obtained money under 
false pretences. ‘ I say I thought you had drowned that 
cat, Eddie,’ she repeated, as if demanding an explanation. 

“ ‘ Well, so I did drown her ! ’ I answered, playing sulky. 
‘At least, I tried my best to do it. I tied a stone round 
her neck to sink her, and then dropped her into the 
Potomac. But she got out, somehow or other, and came 
home last night. I suppose the stone slipped out of the 
noose, and she swam ashore. All cats can swim, you 
know. And now, must I try it again ? ’ 

“‘Wo,’ said my mother. And that was all that ever 
passed between us on the subject. 

“ But from that time pussy ate of my bread and drank 
of my cup by day, and slept on my bed at night, until 
the war broke out. I cured her of her cream-stealing 
propensities. If any one had even spoken harshly to that 


ALMOST A CRIME. 


177 


cat, they would have had to quarrel with me. The war 
separated us for a time, as it did many good friends, but 
peace reunited us, and I have brought her to my new 
home. And now, dear Bertha, you understand why I 
cherish the poor cat.” 

Then, lifting the animal tenderly to his knee, he caressed 
her. 

“ You forgave me for trying to murder you, didn’t you, 
pussy ? And not many human beings would have done 
that, would they? ” 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^ T)ROMISE me, George, that you will never forsake 

-L Amy. After I am gone she will have no friend 
but you. She has always been to me a blessing. If 
she was really my own daughter, I could not love her 
better. So, my boy, I leave her a sacred charge to you. 
Should the time ever be when you shall feel another love 
than that you bear your little sister, you must not, in 
securing your own happiness, forget hers — my poor, 
gentle, timid little Amy ! ” 

“ Have no fear, mother. Amy shall never want for a 
friend, or love. She shall be as tenderly watched over 
and cared for in the future, as she has ever been in the 
past. I solemnly promise you this.” 

“Thank you, my son. You have relieved my only 
uneasiness. I can rest now in perfect peace. Now send 
Amy to me.” 

That night a wail of sorrow sounded through the home 
of George Foster. It was Amy’s voice. They found her 
with her arms still clasped around the form so dear. 
George drew her gently away, saying : 

“ Come, Amy. You are my child now. Mother gave 
you to my care, and may God deal by me according to 
my worthiness of that charge. Now go and try to sleep, 
my little sister.” 

He gave her to the faithful housekeeper’s care. 

( 178 ) 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 179 

Still weeping, but unresisting, Amy did his bidding. 
All her life she had yielded to his wishes. Her brother’s 
will was hers. 

Mrs. Foster was a very wealthy widow, owning a fine 
plantation in the South, with many slaves. George was 
her only child and constant companion, and at an early 
age became her confidant and adviser. This of course 
made him thoughtful and grave beyond his years. When 
he was about seventeen, his mother adopted Amy, an 
infant, orphaned and friendless. George was very fond 
of the pretty little child, and she was taught by her 
mother, as well as all the servants, “Always mind 
what your brother says,” or, “ Do as your brother tells 
you.” 

What a loving, dutiful little daughter and sister she 
was ! And what a capable, thrifty little housekeeper she 
grew to be, relieving her benefactor of much care I Proud 
as well as fond was Mrs. Foster of her adopted child. 

Amy was eighteen when her mother’s death left her to 
George’s care. Scarcely six months had gone by, when 
the kind and considerate ladies of the neighborhood began 
to engage their minds with thoughts and plans for the 
future welfare of the wealthiest young man of their com- 
munity. It was probable he would marry — in truth, 
quite desirable that he should, and that his choice should 
be such as would be acceptable to the parish. Now this 
young man in question was George Foster, who was a 
very attentive member of the church, a communicant, 
and about the most liberal contributor to all charitable 
funds. 

While Mrs. Foster lived, there was neither chance nor 
hope for George’s marrying. He was devoted alone to 
her. But the time had come when he must be looked 
after. So the rector’s wife, Mrs. Charlton, who had a 
11 


180 WHO WAS TO BE BKIDE? 

very lovely young niece, thought that no one could be 
more acceptable to every one than her dear Adele ; and 
so she set herself to work to manage the affair skilfully. 

She began with sending, on several occasions, for Mr. 
Foster, to advise with and help the rector and herself in 
matters connected with the poor of the parish. Of course 
Adele always appeared at such times to the best advan- 
tage. Then once, when out riding near the Manor, 
George’s home, Mrs. Charlton remembered that Mrs. 
Foster had been very successful in the culture of a certain 
plant ; and being very anxious of securing some, and the 
knowledge of the proper mode of rearing, she called to ask 
the favor of Mr. Foster. 

Of course he insisted that Mrs. Charlton should enter, 
and partake of the hospitalities of his home. 

Then for the first time did the thought of an obstacle 
in the way of the final success of her plan present 
itself. 

Amy had been regarded by this worthy lady as a child, 
a dependent, and by no means to be dreaded as a rival. 
For eighteen months, during the time of Mrs. Foster’s 
extreme illness, and since her death, Amy had been very 
much secluded. When, occasionally, she had been seen 
by callers, they had noticed her but little. But it seemed 
to Mrs. Charlton that by magic the child had become a 
very beautiful and really charming woman. 

Everything was in perfect order at the Manor, and a 
delicate and tempting lunch served, at which Amy pre- 
sided with such quiet dignity, that, to use a very trite 
expression, Mrs. Charlton was considerably “ taken aback.” 

In her expectations, Amy was to be dreaded. The 
rector’s wife wanted some advice in this dilemma, and so 
she sought the assistance of Mrs. Fairfield, a very hand- 
some widow, but not young enough to be feared as a rival 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 181 

of Adele’s, she thought. The widow was shrewd, and pos- 
sessed of quick wit. 

Quite forty, but looking much younger, she had been 
thinking much of Mr. Foster lately, and came to the con- 
clusion how well it would be for him if he would take a 
wife; and that she herself could be the one to make him 
very happy. So, when Mrs. Charlton came, the widow 
joined with her very heartily in the idea that Mr. Foster 
ought certainly to be secured ; and little Amy must surely 
be gotten out of the way. Now, when the thought of 
getting rid of the orphan girl came to Mrs. Charlton’s 
mind, she never for an instant thought of doing her any 
harm. But the widow made up her mind to get her away 
at any risk. So there was a little word, a very significant 
look, a shrug of the shoulders given to Mrs. Archer, the 
mother of five daughters, ranging from twenty to thirty- 
five. 

This kind woman, too, had been considering very deeply 
the lonely condition of young Foster, and thinking how 
she would like to be a mother to him, when Mrs. Fairfield 
opened her eyes to the truth — which was a shame to the 
parish — that he was not a lonely man. This matter must 
be attended to immediately. And so it went around and 
abroad, until the rector’s wife said : 

“ My dear, every one is talking of it ! I never dreamed 
of the impropriety, to say the least of it, until every one 
saw and spoke of it.” 

“Oh, certainly; I must go immediately and talk to 
young Foster on the impropriety of his course,” said 
worthy Mr. Charlton. 

And off he went that very hour. And after considerable 
hesitation — for, when getting face to face with the noble, 
grave-looking young man, the rector found it a most 
difficult and delicate matter to approach a subject that 


182 WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 

would call in question the actions of one so worthy of 
respect — he ventured to tell the object of his visit. 

“ What ! not keep Amy, my child, my little sister, with 
me? Send her away I” exclaimed George Foster, with 
intense amazement. 

“ My young friend, you know, except by your mother’s 
adoption, she is neither. For her own good, you should 
do so. Can you not think that her fair name may suffer, 
should this assumed relationship be continued ? During 
your respected mother’s life, it was of course perfectly right 
and proper ; but — ” 

“ But, sir, my mother bound me by a sacred promise 
never to forsake Amy, — to consider her happiness always. 
Send her from me ! How ? Where ? To whom ? She is 
without friends ! ” said George Foster, in an agitated voice. 

“ Procure her a position as teacher, or seamstress — some 
respectable employment away from the neighborhood. I 
will aid you in this duty; you should consider it,” answered 
the rector. 

“I cannot — I cannot. My promise forbids it. Poor 
little Amy ! Why could not these people let her alone ? 
Poor innocent child! How can I shield her from 
them ? ” 

“ Give them no cause to think wrong of either her or 
you, my friend. Now, if you were married , your wife’s 
presence would, of course, render Amy’s presence perfectly 
proper.” 

“ Why, Amy is not the only woman in my house. My 
housekeeper, a worthy, aged and Christian woman, is 
with us.” 

“ My dear friend, she is your colored servant, bound to 
do your bidding. Her presence is not sufficient.” 

“ Marry ? I have never thought of such a thing. And 
you say I must either send Amy off or bring a wife here. 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 183 

that she may remain, and evil tongues be stopped ? ” said 
George, bitterly. 

“ My young friend, you are excited and unjust, I think. 
There are certain duties we owe to society,” said the 
rector. 

“Well, well, to shield poor little Amy, I will marry. 
But who shall I marry ? ” 

“ There are many lovely and most suitable ladies in our 
congregation, several of whom you are already acquainted 
with.” 

And the good man proceeded to do full justice to the 
virtues of several ladies, among whom were the Misses 
Archer and Mrs. Fairfield. Now the one uppermost in 
his thoughts he never mentioned. But when about taking 
his leave he urged the young man to come to see him, 
saying: 

“ Drop in often. Mrs. Charlton is very much interested 
in you. We shall be very happy in aiding you in your 
very wise conclusion.” 

“ Thank you. I will think of this matter. You shall 
know of my decision before long.” 

“Amy, my child, come here. Sit down. I want to talk 
to you,” said George Foster, the next morning after break- 
fast, when he drew Amy into the library, and tenderly 
seated her beside him. “Amy, I am going to be married,” 
he said. 

“ Married ? ” she gasped, turning very-pale. 

“Yes, little sister, married. Don’t you want your 
brother to marry? You surely wish him the happiness 
of other men ? Otherwise, Amy, I might grow sour, cross 
and generally disagreeable, as it is said most old bachelors 
are — ” 

“ No, no ; that could never be with you,” Amy said, in a 
voice which was full of tears. 


184 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 


“ Well, well ; perhaps not. But one had better be on the 
safe side, Amy. Yoti will fix up the place, little 
girl — make it bright and pretty for my wife, will you 
not ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, yes,” whispered Amy, and then sank weeping 
in her brother’s arms. 

“ There, there ; I see how it is. - Sisters must always 
suffer in giving up their brothers for others to love, I 
think. And perhaps you fear you may not be happy 
with my wife, Amy?” 

Only a sob answered him. 

“ Rest assured, my child, I will bring no one here who 
will in any way mar your happiness. My wife will, I am 
sure, be acceptable to you. Only such a one will I bring 
here.” 

Amy went about making the place beautiful. But her 
poor little heart was very sad. Often she stole away and 
wept long and bitterly. On one occasion, when George 
returned home from town much earlier than usual, he 
stepped noiselessly into the drawing-room, and found 
Amy, with her head buried in the cushion of the sofa, 
weeping as if her heart would break. 

He let her weep on until she grew calmer, and when 
about to go and talk to her, and find out, if possible, the 
cause of her sorrow, he was arrested by hearing her say : 

“Can she love him as I? No, no, I am sure not, for 
others share her love. She has friends, while I give all to 
him. No one else in the world I love. Father, mother, 
sister, brother — aye, more than all these is he to me. And 
I only share his love with her. After a while it will grow 
less and less, I suppose.” 

George Foster stepped back ; a new light had fallen upon 
him. He never dreamed this timid, gentle, quiet girl 
loved him, or could love any one thus. Then he knew 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 185 

what a trial it would be to her — the presence of any other 
woman possessing his love. 

How should he comfort her? How reconcile her to the 
woman he had selected as his wife ? 

He waited on the piazza until she came out, a half hour 
after, and then, drawing her arm through his, he walked 
with her to the family graveyard, and there, standing 
beside his mother’s tomb, he told her why it was he had 
first decided to take a wife. With great caution and del- 
icacy he told her of the rector’s visit. 

“ So you see, my child, for your welfare alone I deter- 
mined to marry,” he said. “ Your happiness was my first 
thought. But, Amy, after I had picked out my wife, and 
I knew more of her, I found out how very much my own 
happiness was concerned. The woman I have grown to 
love is one I am sure all will love who know her. And 
now I feel how terribly I should suffer if I should lose 
her.” 

Much more he said, until she grew very calm and con- 
tent. In his happiness she would find hers. And so she 
went on with her w T ork more cheerfully, making things 
beautiful for George’s wife ; as ever doing his bidding. 

“ Trust me and be at peace,” he said. And so she did, 
and was. Much of George’s time was divided between the 
rector’s home, the widow Fairfield’s, and Mrs. Archer’s. 

Happy was little Mrs. Charlton in the thought of her 
final success. Knowing Adele, George must surely grow 
to love her. She told of her hopes to the widow Fairfield, 
who smilingly congratulated her friend, thinking all the 
time : 

“ Oh, if you knew how little Adele has reason for hopes 1 
and how often he comes to see me ! ” 

But the widow was a little disconcerted the next morn- 
ing, when visiting Mrs. Archer, to meet Mr. Foster, and 


186 WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 

hear from the exultant mother that he came very often. 
Yet she could not decide which of her girls was the chosen 
one. 

Time passed on until a month had elapsed, the man- 
oeuvring aunt, mamma, and widow thinking that surely 
every coming of Mr. Foster must disclose the object of his 
visits, when the rector’s wife was very much astonished to 
hear from her husband that George Foster was to be mar- 
ried the next day ; but to whom he knew not, as the gen- 
tleman declared his intention of keeping his own counsel 
until the time of the ceremony. So poor Mrs. Charlton, 
although she could not decide who his bride was to be, 
knew full well it was not Adele — one of the Archer girls 
most likely. Little she thought of the widow Fairfield, 
whom her good husband declared the lucky one. His 
belief was founded on the fact of his having frequently 
met Mr. Foster at her home, and confirmed by that lady’s 
entire change of dress, she having thrown off all vestige 
of mourning and appeared in colors again. 

The next day, during the morning service, the rector 
announced that, after the conclusion of divine worship, 
there would be a marriage ceremony performed in the 
church, and the congregation w T ere invited to be present. 
Who the happy ones were was unknown or suspected, 
save by the rector and his family. 

The services were over, the members of the congregation 
sat waiting and watching for the entrance of the bride and 
groom, when George Foster arose from his seat in the 
choir, walked down the steps and up the aisle to his 
mother’s pew, from whence he gently drew a little figure, 
and proceeded with her up to the altar and stood before 
the rector. The surprise of the good folks may be imag- 
ined. It was a wonderful act of self-control, which pre- 
vented the exclamations of such. A few moments more. 


WHO WAS TO BE BRIDE? 187 

and little Amy’s future welfare was so well considered, 
that no longer a doubt of the propriety of her continuance 
in George Foster’s home existed. For still the minister’s 
voice was sounding in their ears, repeating the words, 
“ What God hath joined together let no man put asunder.” 

Mrs. Charlton was the first to come forward and offer 
her congratulations. She was sorely disappointed in the 
result of her plans ; but it was her duty, as a Christian, to 
bear it patiently, and as the rector’s wife, to be affable and 
agreeable to all her husband’s charge. A few more came 
up with sincere and kind wishes, and some of Mrs. 
Foster’s old friends accepted George’s invitation to return 
with them to the manor. 

The next day the happy pair left for a northern tour. 
During their absence, cards of invitation were sent out for 
a reception on their return. 

The disappointed ones declared, at first, their intention 
of neither calling on nor countenancing George Foster’s 
wife. But, upon second thought and mature deliberation, 
they came to the conclusion they could not well afford to 
insult or alienate the wealthiest, and one of the most 
respectable men of their number; and so Amy’s wedding 
reception was largely attended. 

And George Foster ever felt thankful to the kind, 
thoughtful ladies whose plans for his welfare had resulted 
so happily, although confident that Amy’s future good or 
ill was of little consequence to them. Still he forgave 
them, remembering not the intention , only the result — their 
defeat and his victory, in securing the greatest boon from 
Heaven to man, a true and loving wife. 


WHAT THE FDTDRE MIGHT BEING. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN 



IVE him to me, heavenly Father! Have mercy! 


vX Pity my loneliness, and give him to me ! My all ! 
my only one ! ” Mary Ashton prayed on, repeating again 
the cry, “ Give him to me ! ” She could not say, “ Thy 
will, not mine, be done! ” No; she could only plead for 
the one great boon, his precious life. 

He was her all — “ the widow’s son.” As she still knelt 
beside him, the look of suffering passed away ; the painful 
breathing ceased ; he sank into a sweet, refreshing sleep. 
The mother felt that new life was given him — he would 
still be hers. 

Her prayer was granted. He grew rapidly in strength. 
Soon her pride, her darling, raised as it were from the dead, 
was again making the house merry with his infant glee. 

Years passed on. Herbert’s will growing stronger ; his 
more and more exacting nature at times forcing a feeling 
of uneasiness in his mother’s heart. Yet she would seek 
to drive it hence with the more cheering thought, “He 
will grow more considerate and manly in a few years.” 

Gifted with the brightest talents, he mastered with 
perfect ease his various studies at school. The proud, 
fond mother pictured to herself his brilliant career in 
the future. “ But no ; he would not strive for fortune 
or fame. There was no need of his slaving for a living. 
His mother had means abundant,” he said. 


( 188 ) 


WHAT THE FUTURE MIGHT BRING. 189 

Time rolled on. In his early manhood he won the 
heart of a beautiful girl. Carefully had Mary concealed 
his many faults, that any other than a mother might have 
termed vices. 

“ Rose will win him from such. He loves her so truly, 
and she is so charming, he cannot resist her efforts,” Mary 
murmured. 

Rose’s low, sweet voice was whispering in her ear : “Oh, 
what a happy girl ! What a happy, happy little family 
we are, and must always be ! ” 

Weeks rolled by — months, only a few, when the mother 
felt keenly how terribly mistaken she had been in the 
course she had pursued with her boy. 

When gently she remonstrated with him, his cruel, 
heartless reply pierced, to the very quick, the heart already 
scarred by his many wounds : 

“ Thank yourself for what I am. You have made me 
so.” 

Daily she saw the loving, confiding woman — the Rose 
once blooming so brightly — growing paler ; the young life 
blighted by her son’s cruel nature. 

His reckless extravagance drew heavily on the mother’s 
once ample means. Worse and worse it grew, until she 
had nothing left but the merest pittance. From the home 
of luxury, they went to one where only the strictest 
economy must reign. But Herbert still dressed elegantly ; 
his cigars were the best ; his wines old and pure. Yet he 
earned no money, the mother knew. How did he obtain 
them? A great fear entered her heart. Was he a 
gambler ? Oh, if that were all ! It came at last — the last 
drop in the cup of bitterness, which wife and mother 
both must drain. 

Herbert was arrested on the charge of forgery. The 
last few remaining articles, remembrances of former days, 


190 WHAT THE FUTURE MIGHT BRING. 

were disposed of, to raise money with which the counsel, 
one of the ablest lawyers in the State, was obtained. Oh, 
the agony of those days during which the trial was pend- 
ing — the terrible suspense ! At length the case was given 
to the jury. At home, praying for their loved one, waited 
the wife and mother, to know the result. Soon it came — 
conviction — with the terrible sentence, five years impris- 
onment in the State-prison. A few days more, and they 
must bid him adieu. 

The day of parting came. Oh, who can describe their 
anguish ? Rose was borne insensible from his cell. With 
her fond arms clinging about him, the mother exclaimed : 

“ Oh, if I could bear this for you, my boy ! my boy ! 
Willingly would I die to save you ! ” 

The miserable man, at length brought to his senses, 
pressed the trembling form to his bosom, and said, with 
emotion : 

“ I know you would, my mother. Oh, would that I had 
died in my infancy ! Why, why did you pray for my 
life? You see what a curse it has been, to all who love 
me ! Good-by ; they call me.” 

Again she felt his arms about her, and with a wild, 
despairing cry, she started up, sobbing forth the words : 

“Why! yes, oh, why?” 

She looked about her. The light was turned very low, 
but then, before her, as in years long gone, she could see 
her little Herbert lying ill, dying. She passed her hands 
again and again across her brow, and then gently on the 
pale little face beside her. What was it ? A dream ! all a 
dream ! Those long years of anxious care and final 
anguish had been passed only in dream-land. 

Weary and exhausted, she had fallen asleep. A blessed 
sleep it was ! Through which she had gained a resignation 
to His will. Then she could, and did kneel and pray, 


WHAT THE FUTURE MIGHT BRING. 191 


“ Not mine, but Thy will be done.” Oh, yes ; better could 
she give him back to God in his innocence and purity, and 
think of him as waiting her coming above, than hold him 
back to earth to become, perhaps, as she had dreamed. 

A feeble little cry fell upon her ear : 

“ Mamma, Herbie’s well now. Nothing hurts him. 
Look, look ! mamma. Beauty babies call Herbie. Kiss, 
quick, mamma ; and say Herbie may go — say quick ! ” 

His face was raised, eagerly gazing upward; his tiny 
hands feebly lifted. Again his eyes sought his mother’s 
with an appealing glance, and she strained her ear to 
catch his words so low. 

“ Herbie, go, please ! ” He seemed only waiting her 
consent. She caught him to her bosom in a last, long 
embrace, and with his dear face pressed close to hers, she 
breathed, only heard by Herbert and God : 

“ Go, my darling.” 

Again the sweet lips tried to whisper; but only the 
words, “ Mamma, — come ! — a while,” reached his mother’s 
ear, and little Herbert’s pure spirit had joined the angels 
waiting. 

She laid the little lifeless form tenderly from her, and 
her friends wondered how, so calmly. They had dreaded 
so much the parting moment. Yes; calmly she bore it. 
She knew a more bitter parting might be felt than that 
which was only for a “ little while.” She knew it was 
that which Herbie tried to say : 

“ Mamma will come too, after a little while.” 


TEMPTED 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

“lyriss WARNER!” 

JA-L She turned, clenched tightly in her fingers the 
bank-notes, and with a face deadly pale she gazed on the 
woman beside her. 

“ Miss Warner ! The trustworthy, the confidential clerk ! 
The betrothed wife — ” 

“ Stop ! oh stop ! Let me tell you ! Hear me ! ” 

— “ The betrothed wife of the junior partner of the firm 
of Fairleigh, Noble & Co., to be caught at — ” 

“ For God’s sake, have mercy ! I am not doing as you 
would say. I am only borrowing this until I can return 
it, when it is really due me ! ” 

“ Of course ! But if it was any one but Miss Warner — 
I, or the boy who sweeps this place — what would it be? ” 

“ Oh ! you have no mercy ! You hate me, I know, and 
will not hear the truth. You know I am incapable of such 
wrong. But, oh! you will tell it! Yes, yes; I am in 
your power. Oh, why was I so weak as to yield to his 
pleading ? Why should he not have borne the result of 
his own wrong-doing? Listen, Julia Garnet. You shall 
hear. Though you will feign disbelief, in your heart, you 
know I am speaking the truth. 

“ When my mother, dying, bade me kneel by her side, 
and vow to love, protect and shield her boy, I did it, 
knowing full well it would require long endurance, priva- 
( 192 ) 


TEMPTED. 


193 


tion, and possibly the sacrifice of my dearest hopes. Brit 
I never dreamed it could possibly bring even a suspicion 
of dishonesty upon me. Oh, mother, win for me pity, 
mercy, guidance ! ” 

The miserable girl dropped her head, in her anguish, on 
the desk, and sobbed. 

Coldly, cruelly Julia Garnet stood, unmoved by the 
piteous moans of the girl she was torturing. A triumphant 
light gleaned from her small black eyes, and with a sneer- 
ing expression curling her lips, she said : 

“ Really, this is quite dramatic ! You have mistaken 
your vocation, Miss Warner.” 

The girl raised her head, wiped from her face the tears 
— that pale, beautiful face, with the soul-lit deep gray eyes, 
the clear, smooth brow so full and broad-formed ; such a 
striking contrast to the dark one beside it, whose every 
feature was so sharp and hard; no softening line about 
the compressed lips, to bring one thought of hope to the 
poor girl’s heart. She knew she was doomed, and said : 

“ ’Tis useless to tell you more of my trials. You will 
have no mercy. You cannot feel a sisfer’s devotion. You 
only know your own wishes, and seek only your own 
ends. Speak at once! What do you intend I shall do? 
I know you now, Julia Garnet. You have been my 
enemy since — ” 

“ Yes ; since you won the love of Harry Noble, I have 
hated you. And what think you his father, who even 
now looks with little favor on your engagement — what 
will he say to his son’s betrothed having been caught in 
— well, if the truth is so terrible to your ear, I will say — a 
family failing, perhaps ? ” 

“ Speak, and end your torture ! ” 

11 You will resign your position here, for any cause you 
may choose to assign. Put back that money, if you wish, 


194 


TEMPTED. 


now. I will let you have the same amount. You can 
return it when you have obtained so much to spare. 
You will readily obtain employment in Blake & Co.’s.” 

Tying on her bonnet, with a calmness that would have 
been more touching to a heart that could feel, than the 
distress, and tears of a short time before, Dora Warner left 
the store. 

An hour after, a pleasant, boyish voice called out: 

“ Dora, where are you ? Have you got it ? ” 

“ I have.” 

“ Oh, you darling sister ! I’ll do anything in the world 
for you ; indeed I will. I am so glad ! so relieved ! ” 

The little room was not cheerful as usual, on his return ; 
the lamp not lit, the fire not burning brightly in the grate, 
everything so cold and dark ; and she, the life and light 
that used to welcome his coming, sat with bowed head on 
the little lounge, her bonnet and cloak still on. 

Thinking she was tired, and had been late getting home, 
Willie began to stir around, to make things more com- 
fortable. 

His heart was so filled with gratitude to his sister for 
saving him, he did not think of the disappointment in not 
finding the nice little supper waiting his coming. 

Lighting the lamp, he turned to look at Dora. 

“ Dora, are you tired ? Let me take your wrappings,” 
he said. 

She raised her head — his eyes fell on her face. He 
sprang forward, caught her hand, and sank on his knee 
beside her. 

“Dora! Dora! sister, what is it? You are ill? Speak 
to me ? ” he pleaded, gazing wildly into her face — yester- 
day so beautiful, loving and hopeful; now so haggard, 
weary and despairing. “ What is it ? Oh, tell me, sister ! ” 

She put out her hand, drew him to her, and said:' 


TEMPTED. 


195 


“ Love me, Willie. I have no one else to love me now.” 

When, with his head bowed in her lap, he heard of the 
sacrifice his sister had made to shield him, the boy’s heart 
was awakened to the full appreciation of his own wrong 
and its result. 

He had been drawn into bad company, tempted to visit 
gambling-houses, and finally to try his luck, which, at 
times, was so successful as to lure him on. Thinking he 
could soon return it, he took, from time to time, small 
sums of money from the store, of which he was the book- 
keeper. He had, up to a short time before the opening of 
our story, returned the amount before the loss was 
discovered. But fate turned against him. After having 
taken a much larger sum than usual, his losses were 
continual. The principal of the firm had been absent for 
several weeks, but was expected back the next day ; and 
Willie knew the books would be carefully examined, and 
the discrepancies surely discovered. So it was he sought 
his sister for help, confessed his error, and besought her to 
save him from the suspicion of dishonesty. 

“ For me you suffer thus ? Oh ! Dora, I cannot permit 
it. I will go to Harry Noble, tell him all. To my 
employer — ” 

“ No, no, Willie. It is too late now for that. Harry 
Noble, I know, would feel for us and help us. Your 
employer might forgive and trust you again. But Julia 
Garnet has a power over me that she will never resign. 
Her heart knows nothing of pity. She would use her 
knowledge to the utmost of her evil will. Nothing can 
change her determination. Nothing but God’s work can 
•move her hard, cruel heart. It is meet that I should 
suffer, Willie ; and you too, my dear. We have both erred 
very much. We did not mean to be dishonest, yet it 
might have resulted so. Many things might have inter- 
12 


196 


TEMPTED. 


vened to prevent the return of the money. Oh ! think 
how narrowly you have escaped! Will this sorrow of 
mine call you back from the fearful path into which you 
have strayed ? If so, I am content. Give me this hope 
to cheer my dreariness, Willie ! ” 

“ Dora 1 sister ! darling ! Yes, yes, hope and pray for 
me. With God’s blessing I will not give your loving, 
devoted heart an additional pang. I vow here on my 
knees, before heaven, to be once more worthy of your love. 
And I will seek God’s forgiveness. You will not suffer 
long. I feel, I know, mercy will be shown us. That cruel 
girl’s power must give way ! ” 

All was over. The severest trial of all was past. Dora 
had seen Harry Noble for the last time, she believed. 
After receiving her note, giving him back his plighted 
faith, Harry sought her presence, and would not go until 
he had seen her, and from her lips he had heard the words, 
11 1 wish to be free.” 

He could obtain no explanation. But from various 
hints, looks, and insinuations from Julia Garnet, Harry’s 
mind was filled with the idea that Dora had been trifling 
with him until she found a more acceptable suitor. And, 
indeed, the one had been pointed out. Harry knew that 
one had shown a decided preference for Dora; and so, 
believing her false, he strove to drive her from his heart. 

Months passed by. The money was returned to Julia 
Garnet, and Willie was comforting his sister for her 
sacrifice. 

Rumor whispered that Harry Noble and Miss Garnet 
were engaged, and of the gratification it gave Harry’s 
father, who had yielded to the wiles of the scheming girl, 
and grown very fond of her. Still time rolled on, and 
Dora wondered why the marriage did not take place. She 
had never seen Harry since the day she sent him from her. 


TEMPTED. 


197 


She had studiously avoided him, and strove hard to forget 
him ; or when she thought of him, it must be only as the 
future husband of another. By continual acts of charity, 
mercy and kindness, she won partial forgetfulness of her 
own sorrows. Those who suffered came to her for 
comfort. 

Three long, weary years of waiting, with alternating 
hopes and fears, had past, and Julia Garnet had not yet 
gained her heart’s desire. Although Harry Noble was 
often, and only seemed to care to be with her, still he had 
never told her he loved her, nor asked her to be his 
wife. 

Why ? Because his heart was still true to his love for 
Dora ; and the falsity of his suspicions was proved by her 
rejection of many others who offered her their love. 

Once more he went to her, and asked : 

“ Dora, will you come to me? Will you not reward all 
these years of constancy ? I love you only, Dora ! ” 

“ I cannot,” she answered. 

“ Why? Why? Tell me ! ” 

“ Because, better than my own life, I love one — ” 

What more she would have said, he heard not; for, 
starting up, he said : 

“ Enough, Dora. May you be happy. I will go now 
and strive to be grateful, at least, to one who I know has 
loved me long. I can offer her a poor recompense for 
years of devotion. Farewell.” 

He was gone, and poor Dora had drained to the very 
bottom her cup so overflowing with bitterness. 

“Oh! when will this weary journey be over? Pity, 
pity me, heavenly Father ! ” she sobbed. 

A coming step fell on her ear, and she knew Willie’s 
was near. And her heart grew calmer, and breathed the 
grateful prayer: 


198 


TEMPTED. 


“ Forgive my murmuring, Father. Through my sorrow 
I have gained a blessed boon.” 

Yes; her brother had kept his vow, remaining firm 
against all temptations. 

Julia Garnet was triumphant at last. Her marriage was 
fixed for an early day. But when only two days remained 
before the time for which she had so long hoped, she was 
stricken with a fever, which proved to be of a fearful and 
contagious form. 

This reached Dora’s ear while visiting a sick friend. 
From the attending physician came the intelligence, and 
he added : 

“I fear she will suffer. All have fled except her 
mother, who is too feeble herself to do much for her. Do 
you know, Miss Warner, of a competent nurse I could 
obtain ? ” 

“ 1 do. I will find one immediately.” 

******* 

“ Hush ! She is stirring. She will awake to conscious- 
ness,” said the good doctor, as he bent over the prostrate 
form of the sleeper, who, in a moment after, opened her 
eyes, looked inquiringly an instant into his, and whis- 
pered : 

“Have I been asleep? I was so tired! When Julia 
was sleeping so sweetly, I must have lost myself.” 

A pleasant little smile was on the doctor’s face, when 
he said to himself : 

“ Yes, my dear. You lost yourself for just three weeks.” 

Willie came in and pressed his lips to hers, so pale and 
thin. And then gradually the truth was given to her. 
Beside the suffering Julia she had stayed, despite all the 
entreaties and commands of her brother and the doctor. 
And when the fearful crisis had passed, the noble girl’s 
strength failed, and she too was stricken with the same 


TEMPTED. 


199 


fearful fever. Long days and nights Willie and the nurse 
watched beside her couch, and Julia Garnet feebly hovered 
near, praying — for she could pray then — that the noble, 
suffering girl might live. 

“ May I come in, doctor? ” asked a voice at the door, so 
low and sweet that Dora looked up with surprise as, in 
answer to the permission, Julia came to her side — Julia, 
whose sharp eyes were softened, and glowed with a new 
and holy light, as she bent over and whispered : 

“ Dear Dora ! Good, noble, forgiving Dora ! ” 

“You do not hate me now, Julia? Oh ! I’ve had such 
happy dreams ! ” 

“ I love you, Dora ! But there is one who loves you 
better than I. Your future life shall be one long, happy 
dream. Look at me, Dora. Thank God ! the wicked girl 
you used to know died in that dreadful fever, and you 
nursed back to life another, a better one, whose aim is now 
only to prove her gratitude to God and you. Harry 
knows all. He has forgiven me, and is waiting now to 
gain your permission to come to you.” 

“And you — you love him. No, no ; he is yours ! ” 

“ Dora, I do love Harry Noble ; but I have learned to 
love justice better than him. I can return him to his own 
true love without a struggle ! ” 

A few weeks after there was a quiet little wedding, when 
Julia and Willie attended the happy couple. A nine 
days wondering after by all the friends and acquaintances, 
no two of whom came to the same conclusion about the 
affair. 

To only four persons is known the truth — the tempta- 
tion, the wrong, the suffering ; but the happy conclusion 
of which fills their hearts with the most profound gratitude 
to Him who ever smiles on and blesses the erring one’s 
return. 


A YERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 


BY FRANCES HEN SHAW BADEN. 


^ ONGRATULATE me, Tom ! I’m the happiest fellow 



on earth ! ” exclaimed Harry Ashfield, his face 
radiant with smiles, as he accosted his friend Tom 
Henly. 

“ I’m delighted to see you so happy, old fellow ! But 
tell me ; what has made you so? ” said Tom. 

“ Why, there is but one thing that can make a man so 
happy — a woman’s love ! I’ve won the heart, the first 
pure love of the sweetest girl in the world. Lilly Haywood 
promised to be mine.” 

“ Well, you are blessed, if that is so. For Miss Hay- 
wood is very lovely, and I’m confident you will be very 
happy with her. But I don’t know about your being the 
first one who has ever made an impression on her heart,” 
said Tom. 

“ I do. Why, man, she is just from school. This is her 
first season in society, and I’ve been near her all the time. 
Oh, I should not be so happy otherwise. I could not be 
satisfied — in fact, I would not want to win a heart in 


which love for another had ever lived.” 


“ Oh, that is all nonsense. I’m not so exacting. Because 
a girl has loved once, that’s no reason she should not get 
over it, and love all the more another. But did you never 
hear Miss Haywood speak of her very dear friend Will 
Fulton ? ” said Tom. 


( 200 ) 


A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 201 

“ No, never. Why, what about him ? ” Harry asked, a 
frown gathering on his fine face. 

“ Oh, nothing,” Tom said, a comical smile playing about 
his lips. 

“ I know there is something. And, Tom, I’d like to 
know what it is ? ” 

“ Tush, man ! Now you’re jealous and uneasy without 
good cause. But I’ll tell you, for fear you may imagine 
something really of account. Will Fulton was a friend, 
and a very dear one, of Miss Haywood, when she was at 
school. I know they corresponded for a long while: 
indeed, I was under the impression they still did. I re- 
member hearing Miss Haywood tell a young lady friend 
that she did not believe it would be possible for her to 
love any one more than she did Willie Fulton.” 

11 You heard her say that t How strange any young lady 
should make that declaration so openly ! ” said Harry. 

“Well, perhaps she did not know I was in hearing dis- 
tance. I certainly heard her say it. But I feel quite sure, 
Harry, if she has promised to be yours, she knows now 
that it is possible for her to love some one more; and 
you may rest easy : she loves you truly. But, dear me, 
it is nine o’clock. I’m due at the office now. Good- 
morning.” 

The smiles were all gone from Harry’s face then, and his 
steps not near so light as fifteen minutes before. Some- 
how the sky did not seem so blue, or the sun to shine 
so brightly, as before he met Tom. 

“ She should have told me of this,” he thought. Then 
he would try to console himself by saying, “ But she did 
not know me then. Why should I worry ? ” 

Still he could not feel so very happy as he did. But he 
tried hard to seem so, when he met Lilly that evening. 
Only the night before he had won her promise to be his : 


202 A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 


and really he felt ashamed to let any jealous thoughts, or 
doubts, steal in and cloud the first days of their engage- 
ment. 

A few days after the above conversation, Lilly was 
making a call on her most intimate friend Kate Ralston. 
Lilly had confided to Kate her secret. After the usual 
congratulations, kisses and tears, Kate said : 

“ But oh, Lilly, dear, you’ll have to be so careful. Harry 
is awfully jealous. He’ll not let you be even polite to any 
other man, or love anybody but himself. Perhaps your 
mother and father a little bit. Now my lover is so differ- 
ent. Tom Henly has such perfect confidence in me, I 
could not make him jealous if I tried. But that is not it. 
Confidence has nothing to do with it; it is nature. I 
don’t suppose Harry can help it.” 

“ If it is Harry’s nature, he must try and change it, and 
have perfect confidence in me. I should be miserable, if 
I felt I was being watched all the time by a jealous eye. 
I’ll cure him, I guess.” 

The next evening Harry sat beside Lilly, holding her 
hand in his, when his eye fell on a very beautiful little 
ring. 

“ Who gave you that, Lilly ? ” he asked. 

“A friend,” she answered, with a provoking smile. 

Quickly he drew it off, and glancing inside, read the 
inscription, “ With the love of W. F.” 

Oh, how his heart was rent with jealous pangs then ! 

There was no longer a doubt of the truth of Tom 
Henly’s words. 

“ I wish you would send this ring back to the donor, 
Lilly. I don’t think you should want to keep it now.” 

“ Indeed I shall not, Harry. How very unreasonable 
for you to ask such a thing ! ” Lilly said. Taking the ring 
from him, she returned it to her finger. 


A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 203 

“Who is W. F., Lilly?” Harry asked, with a very 
decided expression of anger on his face. 

“An old and dear friend, Harry.” 

“A first love , I suppose, and one who probably shares your 
heart with me even now,” Harry answered, getting up and 
striding up and down the floor. 

“ Harry, when you asked me to be yours, told me you 
loved me, and received my assurance of a returned love, 
you should have felt sure that I was not deceiving you. 
If another possessed my heart, I could not have told you 
it was yours,” Lilly said, gravely. 

“ Then why do you wish to wear Will Fulton’s ring ? ” 
Harry said, angrily. 

A look of equal surprise and inquiry Lilly bent on her 
lover, and then asked : 

“Are you so jealous that you would not have me bear 
any regard — ” 

“ You may call it what you choose, Lilly. I think it is 
your duty to acquiesce in my wishes ; at least, in not con- 
tinuing to w r ear the ring of a former lover ! ” 

Lilly’s eyes changed their look of anxiety to one of real 
merriment then, and she said, after a few moments : 

“ Well, Harry, I’ll promise this much — not to wear 
Willie’s ring until you give me permission ; but I cannot 
send it back. In return, you shall promise to have no 
more fits of jealousy. You must have perfect confidence 
in me, or we can never be happy. You must feel sure that 
I love you, or else we had better part now, than in after 
days.” 

Harry begged for forgiveness, and promised all Lilly 
wished ; and so, for the time, all clouds were chased away. 

Weeks passed on, nothing taking place to mar the hap- 
piness of Harry until, one evening, Lilly’s father came in, 
and handing her a letter, said: 


204 A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 


“ Here, Lilly, this is from your old friend Willie, I think. 
Back from Europe, I suppose.” 

A glad smile broke over Lilly’s face, a dark frown over 
Harry’s. 

Closely he watched her unmistakable look of pleasure 
as she read the closely written pages. At length she had 
finished, and turning to Harry, was about to say some- 
thing, when his angry face caused her to stop suddenly, 
and, with a look of real anxiety, to ask : 

“What is the matter, Harry?” 

Up he started, as once before, and paced with angry 
strides the floor. At length, stopping before her, he said : 

“ Will you allow me to read your friend’s letter ? ” 

“ No, Harry, I cannot. I would not ask such a thing 
from you. I will read you much of it, however.” 

“ Thank you, Miss Haywood. I saw the concluding 
line, which, no doubt, is the tenor of the whole. And the 
woman who can receive with pleasure a letter ending, 
1 Ever your own,’ from any other than the one to whom 
she is betrothed, is unworthy the love and confidence of 
any man. I wish you much happiness, and at the same 
time give you my full permission to return to your finger 
the ring belonging to the writer of that letter. The re- 
minder of my own folly you can just cast into the fire.” 
And before Lilly could recover from her surprise, the hall 
door closed on his retiring steps. 

“ Well, if he is not the most jealous person I ever did 
see! What shall I do? Write and explain, and try to 
make him less miserable? No; I’ll let him take his own 
course. I fear I should never be happy if we should be 
united,” Lilly said, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

The next day he came not, as she hoped. And after 
several days had passed, she heard that he had left town 
— gone without a word of parting. 


A YEEY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 205 

The establishment in which Harry was a clerk wanted 
some one to travel on business connected with the firm. 
So Harry was asked if he would like to go. And willingly 
he agreed. 

“ I’ll banish her from my heart,” he said. “And this 
change will help me.” 

Tom Henly learned through Kate Ralston of the trouble 
between Lilly and her lover, and feeling a little uneasy 
about the part he had had in the matter, having first told 
Harry about Willie Fulton, he went to see Lilty, and 
explained to her the first cause of Harry’s jealousy. 

“It all comes of my miserable habit of getting up a joke, 
never thinking of the consequences,” said Tom, dolefully. 

“ Never mind. He deserves to suffer for his want of 
confidence. Do not move a step in the matter. Wait 
until his return to his senses,” said Lilly. 

Harry, miserable enough, went travelling from city to 

city until he reached P , where he met one of his old 

schoolmates, who immediately fastened upon him and, 
regardless of all excuses, carried him to his own home. 

That night a party of merry girls were in the parlors, 
and Harry, in an adjoining room, just finishing his toilet, 
heard the hated name, “ Willie Fulton.” When his friend 
came to accompany and introduce him to the young 
ladies, much to his surprise, Harry asked to be excused. 

Amazed, the young man insisted on knowing the reason 
of the strange conduct, when Harry answered : 

“ There is a person in there that I detest, and do not 
wish to meet.” 

“ Who ? ” inquired his friend, in surprise. 

“ That fellow Fulton ! ” replied Harry. 

“ Why, George Fulton is one of the best fellows I know.” 

“’Tis not him , but the other, Willie Fulton. Look 
here, Charley, I’ll tell you just the whole story in a few 


20G A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 


words ; and then, if you say go meet my rival, all right — 
I’ll do it.” 

So poor Harry told his story, not feeling well pleased 
that, during the narration of which, his friend Charley 
seemed a deal more amused than sympathizing. 

At the conclusion Harry asked : 

“Now do you want me to go in ? ” 

“ Indeed I do, and claim the fulfilment of your promise 
to do so. Come, I insist ! or I’ll go bring Will and the 
girls in here,” said Charley. 

Harry suffered himself to he drawn into the parlor, 
where he was presented to half a dozen beautiful girls, 
George Fulton, and two other young gentlemen. From the 
piano came sounds of soft music, accompanied by one of 
the sweetest voices Harry had ever heard. Soon after his 
entrance the song was ended, and the singer turned, when 
Charley introduced Mr. Ashfield to Miss Willie Fulton. 

I think Harry would have fallen to the floor, so com- 
pletely was he bewildered, had not the strong arm of 
Charley supported him. 

Willie knew the story of Harry’s jealousy, having only 
the day before received a long letter from Lilly, telling of 
the way Willie’s name had deceived him and made him so 
miserable. 

Almost as much surprised as Harry was Willie, to meet 
the lover of her dearest friend. However, quickly recov- 
ering herself, she soon placed Harry very much at ease, 
and in half an hour they were talking of Lilly ; and be- 
fore the evening was over Harry had confided to Willie 
his trouble, and begged her intercession to win for him 
Lilly’s forgiveness. 

Lilly sat, a few evenings after, feeling very sad, wonder- 
ing, and wavering. Would Harry come back ? Or should 
she write and tell him the truth? Just then, in the dim 


A VERY NATURAL CONCLUSION. 207 

twilight, she beheld, standing in the door, the object of her 
thoughts. 

He started toward her, and then hesitating, asked : 

“ Dare I come, Lilly? May I come? Oh ! I have had 
a severe lesson, and suffered enough. Do forgive, and 
take me back ! ” 

“ Harry, my heart pleads with you, yet I fear to listen 
to either,” Lilly said, putting up her hands as if to keep 
him back. 

“ Lilly, darling, I shall never doubt again,” he said. 

“ What has banished your doubts, Harry ? ” Lilly asked. 

“ ‘An acquaintance w T ith my supposed rival, with whom 
I am almost as much in love as you are.” 

“ Yes, Lilly, here I am, to plead with and for him,” 
Willie said, coming forward and stopping any further 
remonstrance or chidings from Lilly by almost smothering 
her with kisses, and then going on to say : 

“After all, Lilly, you cannot wonder so much at Harry’s 
misgivings. What with my name, so very misguiding, 
and other circumstances, I think I might have felt just as 
he did.” 

“ Particularly if one whom you thought your friend 
applied the match to fuel already fixed for the burning,” 
said Tom Henly, entering the room just then, and hearing 
Willie’s plea for poor Llarry, concluded it with his own. 

“Am I forgiven, Lilly ? ” 

“ Yes, Harry, and fully acquitted. In the future we 
shall have neither concealments nor doubts,” Lilly an- 
swered, smiling and happy again. 

“ Or loves with deceiving names,” Willie added, with a 
merry glance toward Harry, who was too happy then not 
to join a laugh even at his own expense. 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^ ^ rPHERE goes a fine catch for some girl. I wonder he 
JL has remained a widower so long. It is over three 
years since his wife’s death. Dear me I I should think it 
is a very lonesome life he has.” 

“ Now, Jane Austin, it is not a bit of use for you to sit 
at that window and watch Captain Arden as he passes. 
He will never marry you, nor any other woman. His life 
is devoted to his daughter. And as to being lonesome, I 
guess the little time he is on shore he’ll find enough to 
employ his mind and time. So you need not feel a bit 
uneasy about that,” returned a sister spinster, who, at one 
time, had spent many hours watching the handsome 
captain, but long since had adopted the prevailing opinion 
that Captain Arden would never marry again, he never 
having been known to spend an hour in a woman’s society 
since his wife’s death. 

A few moments after the above conversation, Captain 
Arden entered the reception-room of a young ladies’ 
seminary. Scarce had he seated himself, when his neck 
was encircled by fond, clinging arms, and a sweet childish 
face pressed close to his. After returning his darling’s 
caresses, Captain Arden looked earnestly a moment into 
her beautiful eyes, and then asked, with great anxiety : 

“ What is it, my love ? Something is troubling you, I 
see. Why are your eyes not dancing as usual, and the 
( 208 ) 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 209 

music all gone from your voice ? Come, tell papa what is 
the reason.” 

“Oh, papa, you love me better than anybody in the 
world, do you not ? ” the child sobbed. 

“ Indeed I do, my own.” 

“ Oh, papa, papa ! but will you always do so? ” 

“Why, Flory, little girl, what do you mean?” her 
father asked, amazed by her agitation. 

“ Oh, you do not say you always will. And it is true 
what the girls all say. You will find somebody else to 
love. Oh, you cruel papa ! you will marry somebody some 
of these days, and then your poor little Flory will only 
have a little mite of your heart.” 

“You silly little love, to let these girls tease you so. 
Come, we will make a solemn compact, Flory. Now give 
me your hand, and look right into my eyes. Now I 
promise never to wed any woman, nor to seek to win the 
love of any, as long as my daughter remains true to her 
father. While you are with me, giving me your entire 
love, I ask for nothing more. We will live for each other, 
Flory. What say you ? Will you promise this, too ? ” 

“Gladly, gladly, papa,” Flory answered, with another 
fond embrace. Then, with a doubtful look, she asked : 

“ But, papa, you mean that I must not care for any man 
save you ? That is it — is it not? ” a bright flush mounting 
to her fair brow; “because, papa, I do love Ada Foster 
dearly. She was one of my schoolmates last year. Now 
she is one of our teachers. Somebody must love her very 
much now, particularly because her father is dead. That 
is why she stays here to teach. She is an orphan, papa, 
and so sweet ; and she is so good and wise too ; older than 
I — by nearly five years — and — ” 

“ Stop, little chatter-box, a moment. How old are you ? ” 

“Fourteen last birthday, papa; and Ada is quite old, 


210 TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 

almost twenty. You ought to know her; you would be 
sure to like her, papa.” 

“Very well, Flory, you can love your friend Ada as 
much as you choose ; but do not let me hear of any other 
love. And this voyage I shall make to sea will be the last, 
my child. By the time I get back, two years hence, you 
will be old enough to preside over our home ; and then we 
will be separated no more. So you must learn all you can, 
little one, against that happy time. So now rest easy 
about your father’s heart. It will never wander from his 
darling.” 

A few weeks more, and Captain Arden set sail on the 
voyage he had promised should be his last. He was a 
very handsome man, and entirely too young to dedicate 
himself to a life of celibacy. Bright eyes grew brighter, 
and rosy lips were wreathed with the sweetest smiles, at 
his approach. In foreign ports, as well as in his native 
city, he was a great favorite, and many a manoeuvring 
mamma angled in vain to catch him. In truth, he kept 
pretty well out of their way. He cared not for the fair 
ones’ society. 

Flory’s mother had been the first and only love of his 
youth ; and her memory was dearer still than anything in 
the world, save her child. So he remained very true to 
the promise made his daughter. And she guarded her 
heart well against any one’s invading what she considered 
her father’s exclusive rights. 

Flory was very beautiful, and numberless brothers and 
cousins of her companions cast admiring eyes, and sought 
to win some sign of favor from her. But all to no avail. 
So when the two years had passed by, and Captain Arden 
returned to his child, both, after an inquiring glance into 
the other’s eyes, were fully satisfied that no other love had 
entered the heart of either. 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 211 

It was to a home of rare beauty, as well as every com- 
fort, that Captain Arden carried his daughter. The walls 
were adorned with the works of the old masters, while 
every niche and corner was filled with gems of art. They 
were very happy. Why should they not have been? 
Everything contributed to make them so. 

“It is all very well while it lasts,” was the frequent 
remark of some of Arden’s friends. “ They will both tire 
of this living only for each other before a great while.” 

“ Why should they ? And what on earth can possibly 
mar their happiness ? ” asked another, not so well versed 
in the ways of the world, or of the hearts in it. 

“What? The one great power — the heart’s demands. 
A love not to be satisfied by filial or parental affection, 
that is what will do it. The Master of our being never 
intended this sort of thing. It is unnatural, and I have 
never met with any happy conclusion of such a compact, 
except by the firm dissolving and taking in new partners,” 
was the sage reply. 

However, a year passed by and nothing happened to 
mar Captain Arden’s or Flory’s happiness. At the end of 
that time a young man came, bringing a letter of intro- 
duction from his father, one of Captain Arden’s dearest 
friends. This young man was not only welcomed with 
great cordiality, but Captain Arden insisted that during 
his stay in the city, he should become his guest. 

So it was that Fred Fulton was thrown in the constant 
society of Flory ; a very dangerous thing for the peace of 
mind of both. Any one seeing these two might know 
they were sure to love each other. Flory, who was a 
fairy-like little creature, with golden curls and azure eyes, 
as merry as a bird, and frolicsome as a kitten, had all 
her life a passion for black eyes and raven locks. So 
there was Fred, just such a hero as all blonde girls are 
13 


212 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 


sure to dream about. Then he had such a touching, 
taking sadness about him, that went straight to Flory’s 
kind, sympathetic little heart. Now, to do her justice, 
she fought bravely against the spirit that came stealing 
over her, and really either would have kept herself away 
from him, or sent Fred off home, had not the duties of 
hostess prevented. The next best thing was to get some 
one else to come and help to entertain her guest. Ada 
Foster had, a few weeks previous to Captain Arden’s 
taking his daughter from school, been sent for by an aged 
relative to come and live with her. Thus the friends had 
been separated. Often Flory wished that Ada could be 
with her, saying, “ Then I should not think so much of 
this dark-eyed stranger.” 

Just then Ada’s aunt died, leaving the orphan girl in 
possession of quite a large fortune. 

How Flory rejoiced, not only in her friend’s good luck, 
but more in her freedom. Now she could come to her — - 
be again daily her adviser and confidante. And so she 
wrote to Ada, begging her to come. Soon she came. But, 
alas, for Flory’s thoughts about banishing Fred from her 
heart! Daily he grew dearer. And now the poor girl 
upbraided herself for ingratitude, in thus allowing any 
stranger to share the heart that should belong entirely to 
such a devoted father as hers ! 

Fred’s visit was drawing near its close. A few days 
previous to his leaving, he found Flory alone, and then 
told her his heart’s story. But, poor fellow, his hopes 
received a very sudden check. Flory dismissed him — - 
solemnly declaring she should never marry. 

So Fred went away very miserable ; and Flory’s bright 
eyes grew sad, and her merry voice ceased its carolling 
about the house. Her father grew very uneasy, and 
declared she must be ill. So, to relieve her father’s 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 213 

anxiety, Flory feigned a happier mood. But somehow 
her efforts were of little avail. Captain Arden’s jokes 
grew less frequent, and his merry, ringing laugh was 
seldom heard. Even Flory’s winning little ways failed to 
satisfy or make him happy. 

Truly, a wonderful change had come over the once 
happy little household. 

“ What is the matter with Flory ? ” and “ What troubles 
papa ? ” were the thoughts which agitated the minds 
of both. 

Ada Foster was the only wise one of the three. She 
knew well enough what the trouble was with the captain, 
as well as Flory. For how could she mistake the devo- 
tion of Captain Arden’s manner to herself? Many times, 
when suddenly raising her eyes, she had seen his gazing 
earnestly and admiringly on her. Then quickly they 
would seek Flory, and, with a sigh and a deprecating 
look, he would leave the room. Yes, Ada understood all 
about the trouble, and resolved to put the minds of her 
friends all right. Their hearts were just as they should be. 
She rejoiced in the discovery she had made, for the weeks 
she had spent in the society of the captain had revealed to 
her such true nobility of character, that she had grown to 
think of him more than ever of any man before. Yes, 
Ada loved him. She did not try to deceive herself about 
it. And so, to save four persons from misery, she resolved 
to bring Flory to her senses first, and trust to luck for 
the captain following after in the same course. 

One evening, when out for a drive, an opportunity was 
presented for Ada to “ open Flory’s eyes,” as she said to 
herself. 

They were nearing a fine old mansion, to which Flory 
pointed and said : 

“ What a grand old place that is ! How I should like 
to own it I ” 


214 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 


“I think it a very gloomy-looking place, and would 
like a home of more cheerful aspect,” replied Ada. 

“ Well, it has a very gloomy look. But then there are 
strange folks living in it — only an old bachelor and old 
maid. They seldom have visitors, and only live for each 
other. The servants tell of their being the saddest couple 
ever seen,” said Flory. 

“ I do not wonder. I’ve heard the story of those poor 
mistaken folks, each having sacrificed their heart’s best 
love for the sake of the other ; blindly thinking they 
should find happiness, or, if not that, content in doing 
what they called duty. This unnatural way of living 
never brings either, only years of disappointment and 
ceaseless regrets.” 

“ Oh, Ada ! Can it ever become so with papa, or I ? ” 

“ Flory, I must answer your inquiry by another. Are 
you happy now, in the sacrifice you are making ? ” 

“ I may be by-and-by,” answered Flory, trying to 
repress the sigh which would come nevertheless. 

“ I think not, Flory ; neither are you making your 
father nor poor Fred very happy.” 

“Ada, tell me ; what is the matter with papa ? Does 
he suspect my heart has wandered a little from him ? Yes, 
it is this, I know, which makes him so sad. Oh, how 
ungrateful I have been ! Dear, good, noble papa ! ” 

“ No, Flory ; it is not your love for Fred, that is trou- 
bling your father, I’m quite sure. Have you never 
thought perchance he, as well as you, may have taken 
some one else to share his love ? ” asked Ada, a delicate 
blush s'uffusing her face. 

“ Papa’s heart given to another ! No, no ; he would not 
break his pledge to me — ” 

“ No more than you have with him, Flory. But you 
see how it is, little one. We cannot regulate the impulses 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 


215 


of the heart. Love will wander where it chooses; and I 
think it is the contest against this that is causing all our 
trouble just now.” 

“ Our trouble, Ada! Are you unhappy too?” asked 
Mory, looking inquiringly into her friend’s eyes. 

“ Only — because of my dearest friends’ unhappiness.” 

Flory had fixed her eyes very earnestly on her friend. 
She continued to gaze some minutes, and then light 
seemed to have dawned upon her. She caught Ada’s 
hands in hers, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, I know now ! How blind I’ve been ! Oh, I’m so 
glad ! so very, very glad, Ada ! Hush ! don’t say another 
word ! We shall all be so happy now ! ” 

“Stop, you mad-cap! What do you know?” asked 
Ada. 

“That I’m going to have James turn his horses’ heads 
toward home. I want to put my arms around papa’s 
neck, tell him my secret, and win his — ” 

“And betray another’s, Flory ! ” 

“ No, no. I’ve grown very wise at last. You darling 
Ada ! ” 

A very little while after, Captain Arden sat in his 
library, looking anything but happy. A sigh had scarcely 
escaped his lips, when his neck was encircled by Flory’s 
arms. And she asked, with a comical little smile : 

“ Papa, what is the reason you and I are not just as 
happy as we used to be ? ” 

He drew her within his arms, and said : 

“ You are sure we are not, my darling? ” 

“ Perfectly so, papa.” 

“What can I do to make you so, my child?” he 
asked. 

“ By being so yourself, papa.” 

He shook his head, and was about to reply, when, 


216 TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 

burying her bright head in his bosom, she murmured 
low : 

“ Papa, do we not both of us want to dissolve the com- 
pact we made years ago ? ” 

“ My darling, what can you mean ? ” 

“Oh, papa, you know! Do not you and I want to 
take in new partners ? ” she said, breaking into a merry 
little laugh, which was finished in a shower of happy 
tears. 

As if by magic, the clouds were banished from his 
brow, and the happy, genial-looking man of a year before, 
said : 

“ So this little truant heart has taken another in to crowd 
me out, hey ? ” 

“ No, no, papa. I love you none the less because I’ve 
learned to love — well, just as you love somebody else.” 

“What a wise little woman you have grown to be, 
Flory!” 

“Yes, papa; I know now that you and I will love each 
other all the dearer by dissolving our old agreement 
and entering into another, where no sacrifices will be 
required.” 

“ And who is my rival, little one ? ” 

A whisper close to her father’s ear, with a smiling 
approval from him ; and then, with a very grave look, she 
said : 

“Ada leaves us next week, papa.” 

“ No, Flory ! Can you let her go? ” he asked, the sad 
look coming back. 

“ Yes, papa; if you will make her promise to come back 
and remain forever ! ” Flory answered, smiling. 

Catching her quickly, and pressing her to his heart, 
Captain Arden went out. Flory heard him enter the 
drawing-room. An hour after he returned, drew her with 


TAKING IN NEW PARTNERS. 


217 


him to Ada’s side, and said, his voice full of joyful 
emotion : 

“She has promised, Flory. Help me thank her for 
making us so happy.” 

Flory’s arms were about her, her lips pressed to hers. 

That evening a little messenger was despatched to Fred, 
bearing, from Ada, just one word, “ Come.” 

After a few weeks more the new partners were united 
in a firm compact, which gives assurance of the purest 
happiness earth can afford. 


THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 


BY FRANCES HEN SHAW BADEN. 

^ ^ Ar OU love her, my son ? ” 

J- “ Indeed, mother, I do.” 

“And have told her so ? ” 

“ Never in words , mother. ' 

An expression of relief escaped Mrs. Hawley’s lips. 
And putting her hand caressingly on her son’s shoulder, 
she said : 

“ Herbert, when your brother married, having no daugh- 
ter of my own, my heart was gladdened with the thought 
that my boy’s wife would fill the vacant place in both 
heart and home. You know how terribly 1 was disap- 
pointed, and how his life has been, so far, a miserable 
failure — that the one who should have been a helpmate is 
really a burden, a butterfly of fashion, never satisfied 
unless in some scene of gayety ; careless of home, husband, 
and children. Oh ! my boy, with this, Albert’s dreadful 
mistake, ever before you, I fear you will do likewise. 
Louise Delmar is not the girl to make you happy. Among 
the beauties and belles of the ball-room can scarcely be 
found one fitted to fill with happiness the quiet home 
circle. The petted favorite of such a woman as Mrs. 
Courtney, her aunt, whose whole life is devoted to fashion, 
what can we expect of Louise ? Should poverty and sick- 
ness come to you, how could she bear it? Herbert, 
promise me you will proceed no further in this matter 
( 218 ) 


THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 


219 


until you know her better ; that is, until you find out she 
is different from what she seems.” 

“ Oh, mother, how can I ever know her better, unless I 
become something more to her than a mere acquaintance ? 
Do not bind me with such a promise,” pleaded Herbert. 

“I must. Promise me, my son ! Your happiness is my 
only aim. If she is worthy, you will find it out some 
time.” 

“After another man has won her, perhaps,” said Her- 
bert, gloomily. 

“ No, I think not. I do not ask you to withdraw en- 
tirely from her society ; and if you have made a favorable 
impression on her heart, she will not readily transfer her 
kindly feeling to another.” 

Mrs. Hawley won from Herbert the promise she sought. 
Poor fellow ! the bright hopes which filled his heart were 
very suddenly dashed aside. 

He believed Louise thought more favorably of him than 
any of the other young men who sought her society. He 
had determined, after speaking to his mother on the sub- 
ject, to seek Louise, tell his love, and win her promise to 
be his. So, of course, the interview with his mother, and 
the result, was a severe disappointment. 

A few evenings after, Mrs. Hawley was seated in the 
parlor with Herbert. Vainly she had endeavored to draw 
him into conversation. He remained in gloomy silence. 
And his mother was wishing some one would come in, to 
make it necessary for him to throw off the feeling of 
depression, and exert himself to be a little agreeable, when 
the door opened and the servant announced Mr. Mayo. 

Tom Mayo was Herbert’s particular chum and class- 
mate; the merriest fellow and best friend in the world. 
Mrs. Hawley gladly welcomed his coming. As he acknowl- 
edged that lady’s cordial greeting, he said : 


220 


THE BALL-BOOM BELLE. 


“ My call is especially for you, Mrs. Hawley ; to solicit 
your influence with that obstinate son of yours. I’ve 
been pleading with him for a week past to promise he 
will go home with me to Baltimore, and spend the Easter 
holidays. My sister has written me to bring a couple of 
friends. She is going to have some of her school-mates, 
and we expect a very pleasant time. But Herbert insists 
he cannot — in a word, will not go. Will you help me?” 

Mrs. Hawley was delighted with the prospect of such a 
change for Herbert, and earnestly joined her efforts with 
his friend’s to induce him to go. 

At length they were successful. And the next morning 
Tom, Herbert, and another friend left town for the former’s 
home. 

Three days after Mrs. Hawley received a letter from her 
son, bringing this information : 

“On my arrival at Mr. Mayo’s, I received a surprise 
which would have been a very happy one, had I not been 
bound by that hard promise. You, perhaps, will think it 
all a concerted plan. But I tell you, mother, and you will 
believe me, I never dreamed of meeting Louise Delmar, 
when I stood before her in Mrs. Mayo’s drawing-room.” 

Notwithstanding the barrier against any further prog- 
ress in Herbert’s wooing, he spent a very pleasant week. 
New hope was in his heart. In daily intercourse with 
Louise, his love grew greater. He was convinced life with 
her would be such as to make him the happiest of mortals. 
Gazing into her beautiful eyes, often he saw a look of such 
deep earnestness that again and again he was assured she 
was very different from his mother’s belief. Still, how 
could he convince her that Louise’s heart was fixed on 
something higher and purer than a life of fashionable ex- 
citement ? 

Another proof to him of her worth was, the children 


THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 


221 


lingered near and clung about her, while she listened with 
interest to their merry prattle, and busied her fingers with 
little articles for their amusement. 

The aged grandmother loved to call upon her. Herbert 
saw how tenderly the young girl’s arms were placed 
around her, to support the trembling form, and he wished 
his mother could see her thus. 

It was the last evening of their stay. Tom and his 
friend had prolonged the pleasant visit to the last hour. 
Herbert’s business had not been so pressing as the others’, 
and he would gladly have remained longer; but of 
course he felt bound to return when they did. 

It was a terrible night. The rain, which had been falling 
during the afternoon, came down in torrents then. There 
was no prospect of anything better in the morning. 
Nevertheless they must leave in the early train. 

Herbert had accompanied Tom down to the basement, 
in a hunt for sundry rubber coats and overshoes. They 
were about to enter the kitchen, to make inquiries of 
Bridget, when a howl or wail, as of the greatest grief and 
despair, escaped that worthy woman’s lips. Herbert 
started back with a look of much anxiety. Tom 
whispered : 

“ Nothing of much consequence. Something has gone 
wrong with her. Stand back a little and be quiet; we 
shall soon know the trouble. She will be sure to relieve 
her mind with a torrent of words, and we will hear some- 
thing rich, I think.” 

And soon it was as Tom predicted. Bridget, after 
another howl, groaned forth : 

“ Tin o’clock ! Oh ! bad luck to him ! an’ he’ll not 
come to-night ! An’ it’s Bridget O’Grady’s riputation as a 
first-class cook, all to be ruined by a baste of a butcher- 
boy ! An’ it’s a bit of rain that he’s afraid of ! ” 


222 THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 

Just then the listeners’ attention was directed from 
Bridget by the sound of light footsteps coming down the 
stairs. Further back into the shade they drew, as the 
kitchen door opened, and they heard the pleasant voice of 
Miss Delmar asking : 

“ Can I have some hot water, Bridget, to fix grandma 
something nice to drink before she goes to bed ? ” 

Bridget immediately poured out her griefs to Louise, 
who at once undertook to help get a breakfast, which 
should sustain the reputation of the kitchen, out of the 
scanty materials on hand, and ended by saying : 

“We will give the gentlemen a very nice breakfast, 
Bridget.” 

“ It strikes me, Tom, we are learning some secrets in the 
culinary art in a rather questionable way. I think we had 
better retire,” said Herbert. 

Again the wish was in his heart, “ Oh, if mother could 
only hear and see her as I have ! ” 

The next morning, when Herbert entered the breakfast- 
room, he felt a little curiosity to see the result of Miss 
Delmar’s debut in Bridget’s domain. 

As he had hoped, the object of his thoughts that 
morning, and dreams the night before, was waiting at the 
table to preside at the breakfast, which, to Herbert’s mind, 
was the most delightful in his life. 

Louise was looking charming in her simple, but most 
becoming, morning toilet. Bridget was the picture of 
good humor. And how could she be otherwise? The 
breakfast was a perfect success. The fragrant steaming 
coffee ; the rice-cakes, so light and crisp ; an omelet, 
beautiful to look at, and delicious to taste; a dish of 
delicate and tempting-looking little articles, which the 
young gentlemen seemed to relish very highly; Louise 
laughingly called them “ wonders,” and Herbert was sure 


THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 223 

they were the result of Bridget’s attack on the much-abused 
“ham bone,” and were more palatable than the most 
“ dacent ” slice that ever was cut from a ham. 

None of the ladies of the family were present to say 
good-by. The parting words were given the night before. 
I think most likely Tom’s sister would have been with 
them, if Bridget’s report of the very poor breakfast had 
not kept her away. She would not incur the mortifica- 
tion of presiding at such a meal. 

The time for leaving came. It was a severe trial for 
Herbert, to go without whispering a word of tenderness or 
plead for permission to write to Louise. There was such 
a wistful earnestness in his eyes, as they lingered so long 
gazing into hers, that Louise knew then he loved her, and 
wondered why he did not tell her so. In the hall the 
young gentlemen called Bridget, to thank her for the very 
nice breakfast she had given them at such a very unseason- 
able hour. 

Bridget, looking at the notes that were placed in her 
hand, hesitated a moment before speaking her thanks, 
and then exclaimed : 

“Yes, it’s your dollars I’ll take, for she’s not wantin’ for 
them; an’ thank ye. But it’s the riputation and cridit 
that Bridget O’Grady will take from no one. The break- 
fast was none of me doin’. Miss Louise it was ; an’ all 
out of a ham bone and a bit of nothin’, she made the ille- 
gant breakfast. Ay, it’s a jewel she is ! worth a deal more 
thin the diamonds in your bosom now, Mr. Hawley. 
Sure, an’ it’s a lucky man that gets her, it is ! ” 

Herbert’s heart fully responded to Bridget’s praises of 
Louise. With her voice pouring forth blessings and 
thanks still sounding in their ears, the friends hurried off. 

Herbert, immediately after his arrival home, gave his 
mother a full account of his visit. How deep an impres- 
sion his account and assurances of Miss Delmar’s worth 


224 THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 

made on that lady’s mind, I cannot say. But I think most 
likely she made full allowance for a lover’s enthusiasm. 

That evening, after business hours, Tom called. 

Hunting for something in his pocket, he drew forth a 
letter, and said : 

“ There 1 I declare, this is too bad 1 I promised Miss 
Delmar to deliver this to-night. I forgot all about it. It’s 
too late now, and it is fully a mile from here I ” 

“ To Mrs. Courtney’s ? ” asked Herbert. 

“ Oh, no ! Mrs. Agatha Foster’s, Fourteenth street. She 
is an old lady, and a very highly esteemed friend of Miss 
Delmar’s,” answered Tom. 

“ The name is very familiar,” said Mrs. Hawley. After 
a moment’s thought, she continued: “Ah, I remember; 
I knew her several years ago. Once, I have heard, she 
was in very comfortable circumstances ; but meeting with 
sad reverses, she became housekeeper in the Courtney 
family, remaining with them until her son grew to man- 
hood ; and she is with him now, I believe.” 

A bright thought came to Mrs. Hawley then. From 
Mrs. Foster she could learn all about Miss Delmar. 

“ Mr. Mayo,” she said, “ if you have no objection, I will 
deliver this letter to-morrow morning. It is many years 
since I met Mrs. Foster, and I should like to renew the 
acquaintance.” 

Tom gladly acquiesced. Herbert’s eyes sought his 
mother’s. Instantly he knew the object of the visit, and 
he felt confident of the final result. 

The next morning found Mrs. Hawley in the humble 
home of Miss Delmar’s friend. The old lady delighted in 
talking of Louise. She brought forth numerous articles 
of comfort, the work of her favorite. She told of the 
many hours, when Louise’s friends supposed her in some 
place of amusement, she had spent cheering her solitude, 
and seeking to relieve her suffering. 


THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. 225 

“You know her in the fashionable world ; I in the hum- 
ble home. With her high position, beauty, grace, and 
accomplishments, she will likely make a brilliant match. 
But I often think what a blessing she would be to a poor 
man. She is my pupil, but she understands domestic 
economy better than I, although my instructor has been a 
severe one — necessity.” 

When Mrs. Hawley returned to Herbert, she smilingly 
said: 

“Mrs. Foster is not an impartial judge, for she is as 
much in love with Miss Delmar as you. But I give you 
back your promise, Herbert. Win her if you can ! ” 

Herbert hastened to make up for lost time, and so, 
under plea of pressing business, he again visited Baltimore. 

Very much surprised was Louise when, less than a week 
after parting with Herbert, the servant handed her his 
card, saying he was waiting in the drawing-room. 

An hour after Herbert was happy. He had told his 
love, and won Louise’s promise to be his. 

Mrs. Hawley was a just woman. She fully acknowl- 
edged her error in pronouncing Louise unfitted for 
domestic happiness. And ever after declared, “ Herbert’s 
wife is a real treasure.” Louise truly filled the vacant 
place in her heart and home. Often she says : 

“ Louise is a perfect wonder, Herbert.” 

And Herbert wondered that she had ever thought her 
otherwise. 

Mrs. Hawley, since she has really known Louise, has 
learned some valuable truths : that appearances are very 
deceiving ; in the belle and beauty may be found a house- 
hold angel. And, better than these, that a woman whose 
heart is pure and true, no matter what her surroundings 
may have been, must ever prove a blessing and comfort 
to those about her. 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

S TANDING on the marble porch of an elegant mansion 

on avenue were a youth and maiden. He was 

about bidding good-by, seemingly. Her hand was 
clasped in his, and retained a moment longer than she 
thought was necessary. Drawing it away, she said : 

“There, Julian, I cannot stop here longer. I’ve only 
half an hour to dress for dinner ; and your time must be 
precious too. Uncle will expect you back before he leaves 
his counting-room.” 

“A moment more, Fay. Tell me; will Amu give me 
that picture of yours I’ve begged for so often ? Do, do, 
Fay ! If you only knew how I would prize it, I think you 
would. ” 

He looked so handsome, and pleaded so earnestly, it 
was wonderful how Fay Mandeville could refuse him. 
But she was a very thoughtful and wise little girl for her 
years, only just sixteen. 

“ Nay, Julian, I cannot. You know uncle would not 
approve of that. You have heard him express his opinion 
about a young lady’s ‘ promiscuously distributing her face 
around,’ as he says.” 

“ Promiscuously ! Thank you, Miss Mandeville. I had 
flattered myself with a hope I was — ” 

A coming step arrested his words. Immediately after a 
young man ascended the steps, and stood beside them. 
( 226 ) 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


227 


What a contrast between the two youths! The one 
fashionable, elegantly dressed, conceited and supercilious 
in manner certainly, just at that moment, when he gazed 
on the “very poorly clad and humble-looking individual,” 
as he considered him. 

But when the hat was raised from the broad, noble 
brow, and the youth addressed Miss Mandeville, Julian 
La Forge had reason to change his idea, and he muttered 
to himself : 

“ That pauper has the air of a prince ! ” 

Perhaps there was just visible an increase of color in 
the young man’s face, as he asked : 

“ Where shall I deposit my bundle, Miss Mandeville?” 

“ If you will not walk in and see mamma, I will take 
it,” Fay answered, putting forth her hands to receive the 
parcel. 

“Thank you. No; I will place it on the hall table, 
Miss Mandeville,” the youth replied; and in a gentle, 
dignified manner, stepped into the hall, deposited his 
bundle, returning gracefully, raised his hat entirely from 
his head, and was gone. 

“ Humph ! And who may that pauper of princely 
mien be?” asked Julian. 

“For shame, Julian! Although you do not intend it, 
you are doing William Manly something like justice by 
your words. He is a noble youth.” 

“ I suppose he is not one of your promiscuous acquaint- 
ances, but a — ” 

“There! Good-afternoon, Julian. I have neither the 
time nor mood for a war of words.” 

And turning away, Fay went in, and her lover off, 
vowing vengeance against William Manly — for what he 
could not just tell, except that Fay had received him 
kindly. 


14 


228 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


Julian La Forge loved pretty Fay as well as he could 
love anybody, and she rather liked him ; at any rate she 
liked no one better. 

He was declared “ perfectly charming” by all the girls 
of Fay’s acquaintance, and somehow she had begun to 
think she ought to try to love a little, one who loved her 
so well. Julian was a very intelligent and smart youth, 
and, young though he was, held the position of book- 
keeper in the large establishment of Fairwell & Co. 

Julian had managed, for a time, to gain wonderfully in 
old Mr. Fairwell’s — Fay’s uncle — opinion; but lately some 
traits in his character manifesting themselves, caused the 
old gentleman to watch Julian more closely, and with a 
suspicious eye. So, when the growing intimacy between 
him and Fay came to his knowledge, he determined to end 
it — if possible, without doing any injustice to the young 
man. Ho could not discharge him without a good cause. 
Then came the idea of sending Fay away to school. But 
when in conference with her mother on the subject, the 
wise parent said : 

11 It will make matters worse. Away from our influence, 
with the idea of harsh treatment on her mind, he could 
have a better chance of winning her. We could not pre- 
vent his writing to her. Let her be, and trust to her good 
sense for the result.” 

So it was determined. And a very short time after 
proved it a wise decision. 

The next evening, when they met again, Fay made no 
allusion to Julian’s ill-temper the afternoon previous. 
But he did not wish to drop the subject, and when they 
were alone he asked : 

“ Now, Fay, will you tell me why you thought it neces- 
sary to treat that porter fellow with so much courtesy, and 
where you had the honor of forming his acquaintance ? ” 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


229 


“Although not acknowledging your right to question 
.me, I will answer. My manner to William Manly is the 
result of his own worthiness. He is not a porter, although 
that position would not change my respect. I should 
honor him in his endeavors to win a support for his 
mother and himself. 

“ I met him at his own home. His mother is mamma’s 
dress-maker, and we think her rich in the possession of so 
good a son,” Fay said, looking into her companion’s face 
with an expression which said as plain as words, “Would 
there were more like him.” 

“Ah, indeed. I wonder, possessing such an exalted 
opinion of him, you do not seek to solicit for him your 
uncle’s favor. Perhaps we might find a place for him. I 
think we need another runner boy,” Julian said, a sneering 
expression disfiguring his face. 

“ Thank you. I believe mamma has spoken, or intends 
speaking, to uncle on the subject. But young Manly may 
possibly fill another and more responsible position. Ex- 
cuse me : I will go into the music room. I think it will 
he more agreeable than here,” Fay said, moving off. 

Julian ground his teeth and vowed to “fix that pre- 
suming fool,” as he called William Manly. The remain- 
der of the evening he spent flirting desperately with an 
“ old flame,” and grew every hour more wrathy when he 
saw how little Fay cared, and how happy she seemed 
with the party around the piano. 

Fay Mandeville’s eyes were opened that night, both with 
regard to Julian’s unworthiness and her own feelings. 
She knew her heart was very slightly affected, and re- 
solved to let Julian know it without further delay. 

Returning home, Julian apologized for his ill-humor 
and rudeness, saying : 

“ Forgive me, Fay ; but I feel anything but pleasantly 


230 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


toward that young fellow, for you remember he inter- 
rupted me at a very important moment. I was begging 
for your picture.” 

“ Certainly, Julian, I forgive you.” 

“And for my desertion this evening ? Miss Tracy is a 
very old friend whom I have not seen for a long time. 
She had so much to say of old times.” 

“ Oh, that is nothing for me to forgive. Eleanore Tracy 
is a lovely girl, and I hope you may be so fortunate as to 
win something more than a friendly regard from her. 
You have my best wishes for your happiness — ” 

“Fay, what do you mean?” Julian exclaimed, inter- 
rupting her. 

“ That I shall always be glad to return your friendship, 
'Julian.” 

“And nothing more ? ” 

“ Nothing more, Julian.” 

They had reached her home. He would have said more, 
much more, which he hoped would change her mood, 
but the door opened, and her uncle stood before them. 

“ Good-night ! ” without even her hand extended. And 
she was gone from his sight ! 

Julian related the whole affair to a friend the next da} 7- , 
and likewise his plan to “fix the fellow.” 

“Better not attempt it, Jule. It is a dangerous game. If 
you should be caught, it would cost you dearly,” said the 
young man. 

“ I will do it ! It is impossible being discovered,” an- 
swered Julian. 

“Very well. I’ll have nothing to do with it,” returned 
his friend. 

The next day a sweet, gentle little woman sat sewing 
beside the window, watching and waiting for her son’s 
coming. Smiling, she said : 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


231 


“ Oh, I wish he would come. How surprised and de- 
lighted he will be ! My dear, good boy ! I had scarcely 
dared hope for such speedy good luck, although Mrs. 
Maude ville promised to speak for him. Ah, here he 
comes ! ” 

Another moment, and Mrs. Manly’s arms were around 
her son. And she pushed into his hand the letter which had 
given her so much joy. Quickly opening it, William read : 

“My Young Friend — If you will present yourself as 
soon as convenient after the receipt of this, to Mr. Fairwell, 
he will find some position for you in his establishment. 

“ Very truly, F. Mandeville.” 

“ Oh, how kind ! And are we not two of the happiest 
people living to-night, little mother? Really I feel like 
shouting with joy ! ” the good son said, as he caught his 
mother within his arms, and danced her round the room. 
And when almost out of breath he placed her in her chair, 
sank on a stool at> her feet, and said : 

“ No more working those dear little fingers almost off, 
nor blinding your eyes with sewing until midnight. No, 
indeed. I intend your eyes shall grow bright again. Oh, 
mother, I feel as if I was too happy for it to last. But 
•now we must work a little, brushing and darning my coat. 
Faithful old companion, I will put you on the retired list 
before long.” 

And so the happy youth worked and talked until his 
mother sent him, with kisses and blessings, to bed. 

The next morning William Manly presented himself at 
Fairwell & Co.’s. The old gentleman had not reached the 
store. William felt somewhat embarrassed while waiting 
his coming, as no civility was tendered him by any one 
about. 

At length — an age to him — Mr. Fairwell came. William 
approached him, saying : 


232 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


“ I am William Manly, sir.” 

The old gentleman was rather brusque always, and that 
morning he was decidedly cross. Some young scamp had 
played him an April trick, and he was not feeling any the 
better for it. So in reply he said to poor William : 

“ Well, sir, what is that to me?” 

A half-suppressed titter was heard, and William has- 
tened to say : 

“ I am here, sir, to thank you for your kindness, and in 
answer to the message for me to present myself to you.” 

“What in thunder are you talking about? I don’t 
know anything about it.” 

Mortified and dreadfully disappointed, William asked : 

“ Did you not send for me, sir? ” 

“No, sir,” snapped the old man. 

“ Then there is some mistake. Excuse me, sir,” William 
said, and withdrew. 

How he reached home he scarcely knew, and with his 
head pillowed on his mother’s shoulder, he told of his 
reception. 

“ Why did you not show him the note ? ” she asked. 

“ Because I knew not from which it came, Miss or Mrs. 
Mandeville. It was only signed by the initial F for the 
first name. I thought possibly the young lady might, 
thinking to win from her uncle a favorable reception of 
me, have anticipated it by sending the note, and some- 
thing afterward had driven it from her mind,” William 
answered. 

When Mr. Fairwell returned to dinner that day he told 
of the strange action of young Manly, and inquired if his 
sister, Mrs. Mandeville, understood what it meant. She 
did not. But a very grave look came over Fay’s bright 
face, and she said : 

“ Uncle, I believe I have a clue to it. But until I am 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


233 


better assured, I would rather not tell my thoughts. 
When you come home to tea I shall know more.” 

Fay told her mother something about it, and an hour 
after they were on their way to Mrs. Manly’s. Without 
hesitation they explained the object of their visit immedi- 
ately on their arrival. The poor little woman, with traces 
of tears still on her face, handed them the letter which 
had brought so much joy, and resulted in such deep 
mortification. 

Fay nodded her head as she read. Turning to Mrs. 
Manly, and placing her finger on the paper, she re- 
marked : 

“ You see the date, April 1st. It is as I thought. Do 
not feel so badly, Mrs. Manly. I trust this will end to 
our perfect satisfaction. This I beg leave to retain.” 

That evening Fay placed the forged letter in her uncle’s 
hand. After looking at it very intently for a few moments, 
he drew from his pocket-book a little slip of paper, which 
placing near, he compared with it, and said : 

“Just so. I believe we are both on the same track, 
Fay, and the right one, too. Now tell me what you 
think.” 

Fay did as he desired, and after hearing her, he re- 
plied : 

“ Yes ; it is just so. This slip of paper I found between 
the leaves of the ledger. You &ee, on it are written the 
same words as the first line of this note. Well, I must 
make some atonement to the young man for my ill-humor 
this morning.” 

And sitting down, the old gentleman wrote to William 
Manly, offering him a position in his establishment, and 
enclosing a check for a month’s pay in advance. This was 
immediately sent to the young man. 

The next morning Mr. Fairwell, in the presence of those 


234 


A COSTLY JOKE. 


clerks who had witnessed William Manly’s discomfiture 
the day before, said : 

“As I am somewhat responsible for what is done here, I 
feel it my duty, as well as pleasure, to make good a 
promise written by one of the gentlemen here to Mr. 
Manly. As Mr. La Forge is contemplating just now 
resigning his position, I think, it will from this day be 
filled by Mr. Manly, as I know none other for which he 
is so well suited.” 

Scarcely had he ceased speaking when young Manly, 
plainly but w T ell dressed, entered. 

And soon after Julian La Forge managed to get away, 
without any one knowing just when. Few, if any, regrets 
followed him ; all felt he well merited the severe lesson he 
had received. 

Two years have passed since then. Daily William 
Manly is gaining in favor with his employer. Julian sees 
him not only occupying his position in the establishment 
of Fair well & Co., but hears rumors of his winning another 
position to which he had aspired. Yes, everywhere he 
hears that it is likely, before many months more, that 
William Manly will be connected by a nearer and dearer 
tie, to Mr. Fairwell. He believes this, for he met Fay a 
few days ago leaning on his arm, looking into William’s 
face as she never had into his; and he cursed the day that 
he played that April trick. 


WHO STOLE HIS GOLD? 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

W HAT became of Silas Shaw’s money was a subject 

that had agitated the community of W very 

much. The most celebrated detectives had worked upon 
the case for twelve months, yet failed to throw any light 
upon the subject; all was wrapped in mystery. Not a 
clue was found to work upon. It was only known that on 
a certain day during the dark period of our national 
struggle, Silas Shaw had drawn from the bank, in gold, 
the sum of twelve thousand dollars. Silas had grown 
gloomy as regarded the termination of the contest, declar- 
ing that “if the old flag was not triumphant he should 
leave the country.” In preparation for that event he had 
secured his gold. A few months after he widely declared 
his money stolen. He stated having buried the gold 
under the hearthstone, in a certain room of an untenanted 
house belonging to him — that after it was again occupied, 
at regular intervals he watched for the safety of his 
treasure. It remained where he had put it until a fort- 
night after the house was again vacant, when, going one 
day to see that all was right, he found the bricks thrown 
aside, the mortar scattered around, and the gold all gone. 

This statement was somewhat substantiated by the ten- 
ants, who told of being very much annoyed by the frequent 
visits of Mr. Shaw to satisfy himself respecting the safety 
of the flues, he said. Believing something more than he 

( 235 ) 


236 


WHO STOLE HIS GOLD? 


said caused his visits, which to them seemed very mys- 
terious, they determined to find another house, and did 
so ; thus giving their landlord the opportunity of inspect- 
ing the flues to his perfect satisfaction. 

Shaw hinted his distrust of these people ; hut to nothing 
by which to fix a well-grounded suspicion could he point. 
Shaw was never a very agreeable person, and generally he 
was disliked. After his loss, he grew so very gloomy and 
irritable that people avoided him everywhere. 

There was, however, one redeeming point about him : 
his love for Mira, his daughter and only child. Hitherto, 
for her sake, he had tolerated Reginald Harland, a young 
man truly worthy of Mira’s love, and of whom even her 
father could find but one fault, which in his eyes became 
a crime — Reginald’s poverty. 

After the loss of his gold, Silas declared himself a 
pauper, and telling Mira she must send her lover off, told 
Reginald himself to go. 

“We are all paupers now,” he said ; “ and paupers must 
think of something other than love-making.” 

Reginald pleaded earnestly with Mira to fly with him. 
Bravely she resisted. 

“ Nay, nay, Reginald ; I can never desert him during his 
trouble. I must come to you meriting blessings, not 
dreading the curse of disobedience and ingratitude,” she 
said. 

“ Mira, I am going to make one more appeal. Possibly 
I may touch his heart,” Reginald said. 

And starting right off, he sought Silas Shaw, and 
pleaded earnestly and long for permission to wed his 
child. 

“ Is there nothing I can do to change your mind? 
Speak ! Tell me what you demand ! ” Reginald asked. / 

With a mocking laugh, Silas answered : 


WHO STOLE HIS GOLD? 237 

“ Yes ; find my gold, or the one who stole it, and I will 
give you my child ! ” 

With a disappointed look, Reginald turned away, saying : 

“ I find what men have failed to do — men whose 
thoughts and energy are given entirely to such work? 
You mock me, sir.” 

“Find my gold, and you’ll find your bride!” hissed 
Silas. 

“ I will work for gold, as much, and bring you,” urged 
Reginald. 

u No ; I want only my own gold. Find that, if you wish 
my child.” 

Reginald could not go and tell Mira of his failure. Dis- 
heartened, he sought his home. With his head bowed on 
his hands, he sat and reviewed, over and over, the same 
ground so many had gone before, weighing every little 
point, every word he had heard of the mysterious affair, 
but as vainly as others. No light shone in on the dark- 
ness. 

“ ’Tis useless,” he said. “ I will not attempt it, lest I 
become as mad as Silas Shaw himself. For mad he surely 
is, or he would not try me thus.” 

Then Mira’s beautiful face and tearful eyes rose up 
before him, and again his brain began to work. 

“ Only in Heaven it is known, and there, I fear, it must 
remain,” he said, sadly, “ unless some angel voice should 
whisper it to me.” 

Hours passed, and still he sat. All darkness— no light 
breaking in yet. Starting up, he threw off his coat, and 
dropped, heart-sick and weary, on his bed, exclaiming : 

“ I shall strive no more. My brain is burning with 
fever now.” 

A few moments, and he might have fallen into a little 
doze, from which he started, and cried out: 


238 WHO STOLE HIS GOLD? 

“ I have it ! I have it ! ” 

Had some angel spirit — his mother, perchance — whis- 
pered in his ear, revealing the long-hidden secret ? Perhaps 
he felt so. 

Seeking Silas Shaw early the next day, Reginald said : 

“ Mr. Shaw, I accept your terms. I believe I have a clue 
by which I shall find the thief ; probably your gold. That 
I may perfect my plan of detection, I beg that you will 
permit me to become an inmate of this house for a few 
nights, say a week. At the end of that time, if I do not 
solve this mystery, I shall give it up.” 

Again the old mocking laugh from Silas, and he said 
angrily : 

“ I understand you. You want to rob me of my child ! ” 

“ Send her away, to remain during the time I shall be 
here, if you have no confidence in me.” 

“ I will” said Silas ; adding, “ Tell me what you wish to 
come here for ? ” 

“Because I believe the thief is intimately acquainted 
here; aye, perhaps a member of your household. You 
may, if you choose, let it be thought you have more money 
or valuables about your premises, and I shall watch the 
result.” 

Silas agreed, and Reginald that night occupied the room 
adjoining the old man’s. 

Three nights passed without bringing him any more 
light upon the subject. Twice during his midnight 
watches he stole to the door of Silas’ room, attracted by a 
stealthy step within, to see only the old man moving 
about — he, perhaps, anxious and watchful too. 

The fourth night, exhausted from the loss of rest and 
great excitement, Reginald dropped upon a couch, and 
soon after fell into a restless, uneasy slumber, from which 
he would start, and gaze wildly around. Many times he 


WHO STOLE HIS GOLD? 239 

did this, until at length there came something to rivet his 
eager eyes upon. 

Stealing noiselessly through his room, by the dimly 
burning taper he beheld a man, bearing a small lamp. 
He approached, opened the door, and passed out into the 
hall. 

Up and after him, with a step as noiseless, stole Reginald. 
Through the long passages, down flight after flight of steps, 
into the very depths they went. 

Carefully placing his lamp on the cellar floor, the man 
turned, and then for the first time his features were 
revealed to Reginald. They were not unknown. 

Drawing from a hiding-place a small step-ladder, the 
man approached the centre of the room, where Reginald 
beheld a cistern, over into which the man, dropping his 
ladder and again securing his lamp, descended slowly and 
cautiously. After him Reginald crept unnoticed. The 
place was dry, as he suspected. The lamp again placed 
on the floor, and something like a small pick drawn forth, 
the man went to work. A few bricks were removed, and 
pushing aside the dust, he drew out the long lost gold. 
Reginald knew it was, even before the box was opened. 
A moment after his eyes beheld his triumph. Mira was 
his. Then was the moment for action. 

With a smart tap on the man’s shoulder, he said : 

“ Mr. Shaw, awake ! Here is your gold.” 

The somnambulist turned, gazed wildly on Reginald, 
who pointed to the box of gold, and repeated : 

“ There is your long lost gold, Mr. Shaw ! ” 

The old man was awake, his eyes gazing eagerly on his 
treasure. He knew all then, and in his great joy sank, as 
Reginald feared, dying, on the cistern floor. 

Gently raising, he bore him out and up, retracing his 
steps through the long halls to his own room. 


240 


WHO STOLE HIS GOLD? 


After applying restoratives, Reginald was rewarded by 
seeing signs of consciousness appearing. A little longer, 
and Silas whispered : 

“ Is it true ? ” 

In answer Reginald sped swiftly thence, descending 
again to the cellar ; and in a few moments more re-entered 
the room, and placed beside the old man his box of gold. 

“Mira is yours, and this her dowry,” the old man 
whispered. 

And Reginald, as he clasped the trembling hand to 
express his joy and thanks, noticed the old look of bitter- 
ness and suspicion was gone. Silas Shaw smiled, probably 
the first time for many long months, perhaps years, as he 
said: 

“ I wish Mira was here now.” 

Thus Reginald Harland won his love. And thus it was 
that the mystery which had so long agitated the minds of 
so many was discovered, and the oft-repeated query, 
“ Who stole Shaw’s gold ? ” was heard no more. 


MARY’S GHOST. 


BY FRANCES HEKSHAW BADEN 

^/^OME here, Grace, my darling, my little woman 
child! Put baby down, and come close. I want 
to have a long talk with you before father returns,” said a 
low, feeble voice. 

The little maiden, with mother-like tenderness, laid the 
sleeping babe in the crib, and then sank on a low stool 
beside the arm-chair of the speaker, a pale, gentle-looking 
woman, whose emaciated form told plainly of lingering 
and painful disease. 

“ My little comforter ! What could I do without you ? 
Who trust so implicitly with my babes as their sister ? I 
know how faithfully, how lovingly you will take care of 
them when I am away.” 

“ Mother, mother ! don’t talk so ! ” sobbed the child. 
“ Don’t talk of leaving us ! ” 

“ Darling, I do not mean what you fear. No, love ; I 
have strong hope of living now, and getting well, perhaps. 
I’ve not spoken to you before, waiting until I had deter- 
mined upon what I thought best. The doctor advises, 
and almost insists, that I shall go to London, to the 
hospital. He feels quite confident I can be treated there, 
with a better chance of success. So, daughter, that I may 
the sooner be able to attend to my loved ones, I have con- 
sented to go. To-morrow is the day fixed for my leaving. 

( 241 ) 


242 mary’s ghost. 

Nay, love, do not cry so, or I shall not be able to keep up 
heart.” 

The little girl choked down the sobs, and whispered : 

“ Tell me all, mamma ; I won’t cry any more. But, oh ! 
why can’t you get well at home ? ” 

“ Daughter, before I grew ill, it was a hard struggle for 
your father to provide for us ; now the burden is greater 
than he can bear very long. I require many things to 
give me strength, that he cannot obtain. This grieves him, 
I know. And what a trouble I am to you, love ! ” 

“ No, no, no, mother ! I will work harder to get you 
comforts ; I will take care of the babies and you too. If 
mother is only here for me to see, to speak to us, to smile 
on us children — ” The tears were coming again, her lips 
quivered, and poor little Grace dropped her head in her 
mother’s lap. 

“ There, little love, have a good cry, and you will feel 
better, and stronger too. I would sooner have you do so 
than see you struggling so hard to be calm, my brave little 
woman! There, keep your head so, and I will talk to 
you. I know how willingly you do and would ever work 
for me. But your strength would fail before long, and 
then what would we do? the babies particularly? No, 
darling, you can do more and better for them when some 
one else is taking care of me. But I will come home 
again, I trust ; I believe I shall. But if — if it pleases God 
that I should not, my babies will not miss me. You will 
be everything to them. And, Grace — now look into my 
eyes, dear! — that your father may not want to fill my 
place, deal gently with him. Have things comfortable 
when he comes home at night. Humor him, as I have 
done ; make home pleasant. He is cross sometimes, and 
rough often, and it is hard for my little gentle Grace to see 
him so. But he has a good heart, and loves us truly. 


mary's ghost. 


243 


So yon must always remember this. How much I am 
putting on a little girl twelve years old! Hush, here 
comes father home ! I hear Georgie’s merry laugh.” 

Grace quickly dried her eyes, and a few moments after, 
her father, Maurice Ready, came in. 

Well might the neighbors marvel that the burly, good- 
natured, but very rough man should have won such a 
pretty, refined woman as his wife. It truly was a mystery. 
It was only known that she was an orphan, left dependent 
on her father’s brother, whose family did not seek to make 
the poor girl happy. 

The day of parting came. Bravely little Grace bore up. 
She would not add to her mother’s sorrow by even a look 
of sadness. So, forcing to her pale lips a smile, the cost of 
which the mother knew so well, she said : 

“ Try to get well, soon, mother, and come back to us 
looking like you used to.” 

“ I will come back to my darling, to take care of you 
again. I will, with God’s permission.” 

Another besides the husband and children heard the 
mother’s promise, and, as the carriage drove off, she said : 

“ Sure, it’s never come back will ye, unless it’s from the 
other world ! ” 

This was Judith O’Riley, Mary Ready’s next neighbor. 
She was noisy, and very coarse in look and manner. 
Mary always shrank from her, offering no encouragement 
to Judith’s frequent attempts to be “ sociable,” as she said. 
But Maurice rather liked her, and. would sometimes 
remonstrate with Mary, and say : 

11 Of course she’s not like you, Mary. But it’s a warm 
heart she has, and seems fond of the children.” 

Maurice returned at night, telling Grace of the comforts 
her mother was surrounded with, and bringing many 
messages from her to cheer her darling’s heart. 

15 


244 


mary’s ghost. 


Everything was done to please her father. Mother was 
not missed at supper, for many weeks had passed since 
she was with them at any meal. But oh, the dreary even- 
ing! Always, after the day’s work was done, all went up 
to “ mother’s room,” and she would try to make the even- 
ing cheerful. Baby Katy was only eight months old, and 
loved Grace, and only cared for her. But Georgie, bright, 
laughing little fellow, all that day he had wandered about, 
calling “Mamma,” and saying: 

“Gracie, me wants mamma — where mamma? Me 
wants mamma so bad.” Refusing to be comforted he 
cried himself to sleep in mother’s chair. 

Grace, like her mother, was a delicate, refined little 
creature, with a sweet, thoughtful look in her blue eyes 
which told of care over-much for so young a child. Mau- 
rice was proud of his “ little woman,” as he spoke of her, 
and he had cause to be. Few brighter girls could be 
found anywhere. Apt at her studies, though only two 
years at school, and with her mother’s help afterward, 
she had a general knowledge of all the most requisite 
branches of instruction. She had wonderful skill in mak- 
ing various little fancy articles — flowers of hair, and shells. 
She obtained ready sale for them, the proceeds of which 
she expended in delicacies for her mother and pretty 
clothes for her babies. Yes, Grace was a prodigy, her 
father thought, and others thought so too. Often he 
regretted his poverty, particularly on Grace’s account. 
Weekly Maurice went up to town, and returned bringing 
encouraging accounts of Mary’s improving health. She 
had been away about two months when the babies were 
taken sick with the measles. So Maurice thought it 
better not to go that week, but wait until he could carry 
better news from home. 

The little ones soon were well, and again their father 
went with loving messages to mamma. 


MARY’S GHOST. 


245 


11 Oh ! if you could bring mother home this time ! May 
be she will be well enough,” said Grace, following him to 
the door, her little hands clasped, her eyes raised, prayer- 
ful, hopeful, expectant. 

How busy she was all day, getting the house tidy, fixing 
up some little delicacies for supper, and finishing some 
shell-work ! 

Getting a friend to stay with her babies, she hurried 
out, disposed of her work, and soon returned with a pair 
of red shoes for Katy. The crowning fete of the evening 
w T as to be baby in short clothes, trying to step. 

“ How delighted mother will be to see her little ones so 
well, and Katy’s attempts to walk ! ” the little girl said 
to herself, waiting and watching, her ears strained to 
catch the first sound which would tell of her father’s 
coming. 

At length, far down the sidewalk, she hears the well- 
known step. The hopeful light dies quickly out of the 
blue eyes, and a look of resignation comes instead. She 
listened. The steps are heavier, slower. A great dread 
enters her heart. She cannot hasten forward to welcome 
him. She hears the door close, and the slow, heavy tread 
draw near. 

“ Grace ! ” 

Her eyes were raised to his. She could not speak to 
answer. No words were needed to tell the sad tidings. 
She knew all. She had read it in his face. 

Stifling the cry which arose to her lips, she whispered, 
pointing to little Georgie : 

“ Don’t let him know.” 

The pale face grew paler. Yet no sigh escaped her lips 
until her babies were sleeping, and then her fortitude was 
over. 

“ Tell me, father ! ” she moaned. 


246 


mary’s ghost. 


“ Five days ago, suddenly. They took me to her grave,” 
was all that Grace could get from him. 

“ Motherless ! ” she sobbed. Then remembering the 
words, “Take care of my babies,” she went about her 
work, doing her mother’s bidding. 

The next morning she said : 

“ Father, you know my name is Mary Grace. Call me 
by my mother’s name now, and I will try to grow like 
her, and comfort you as best I can.” 

Maurice mourned sincerely his wife’s death. Grief 
softened his nature very much, and Grace grew to love 
him more than she had ever before. 

Friends were very kind to the motherless children, none 
more so than Judith O’Riley. She helped Grace with the 
drudgery of housekeeping, saying: 

“ You’re not strong enough to do, and your father not 
able to pay for the doing of it, and it’s meself that has 
a plenty of time, and no one to do for but meself.” 

Grace began to think her dislike to Judith was unjust, 
and she was very grateful for her help. 

Six months passed by, Grace working on, growing 
thinner and paler daily — not from the hard work, but a 
terrible fear was over her : mother’s place was likely to be 
given to another. 

Judith had managed skilfully. She told Maurice how 
badly Grace was looking, saying : 

“ Oh, it’s a burden too much upon her young shoulders. 
Ye should be looking to it, Maurice, or she’ll not live to 
comfort ye long, sure! It’s a mother she needs herself, 
sure, the puny little dear ! And yerself’s looking badly, 
Maurice. Sure it’s a lonely life ye’re living. Ye all want 
taking care of, sure ! ” 

J udith had certainly attacked Maurice in his most sen- 
sitive point — Grace. The victory was hers. 


mary’s ghost. 


247 


“Will you come take care of us, Judy ? ” he asked. 

A few days more, and Grace was no longer mistress of 
her father’s home. And yet a few more, and the scales 
fell from Maurice Ready’s eyes. 

The quiet, peaceful little home became one of continual 
complaints, quarrels, and threats. 

Grace no longer had time for her pretty fancy work, the 
materials for which she had to hide away, for fear of 
Judith’s destroying them. 

“ It’s all nonsense for ye to be spending your time with 
the likes of that! Do ye suppose I’ll be working and 
washing for ye and the brats, while ye play the lady, 
sure?” 

And so the babies wore out their pretty shoes. Maurice 
was unable to buy more, and Grace saw her darling’s 
little toes peeping out. Georgie’s merry laugh was 
hushed, and into Katy’s bright eyes came a frightened 
look that lingered there. Often Grace’s slender form 
shielded her, and received blows intended for her babe. 
Maurice at first interfered, but he was silenced completely. 

Poor Maurice! how bitterly he bewailed his mistake! 
and thought sometimes he must have the nightmare, 
from which he should surely die, if he was not awakened. 

People saw his misery, and asked what it was that 
Maurice was afraid of — Judy’s tongue or fists. 

Once, when the dreadful woman’s marks were plainly 
seen on Grace’s thin face, Maurice summoned up courage 
to say : 

“ I should think you would be afraid of Mary’s coming 
from heaven to haunt you for treating her children so.” 

This, for a little while, subdued Judy, who was terribly 
afraid of ghosts ; and remembering Mary’s parting words, 
she shuddered a little. But in time the fear grew less, 
and she began her tyranny again. 


248 


mary’s ghost. 


Grace came in one afternoon and found Gcorgie tied in 
a chair, hand and foot, while Judith stood over him with a 
pair of scissors, about cutting off his curls. The little 
fellow was begging and crying. 

Grace sprang forward, her heart almost bursting with 
indignation. She seized the scissors, threw them into the 
burning grate, and exclaimed : 

“ You shall not cut off his curls ! Mother loved them, 
and you mustn’t touch them again. Untie Georgie. See 
his dear little wrists, all bruised and swollen ! Oh, you 
wicked woman ! Surely God won’t let you stay here to 
treat my babies so ! ” 

Grace said no more. She knew no more. A heavy 
blow sent her reeling senseless to the floor. When she 
recovered, she found herself locked up in a small room 
used for lumber. She cared not for herself, brave little 
woman — only thought of Georgie and the baby, and 
prayed for their deliverance. 

It was a sickening sight to Maurice, when he came home 
and found baby Katie, wailing and crying for Grace, 
seated in a corner, and fearing to come at his bidding. 

“ Where are Grace and Georgie ? ” he asked. 

“ Where I put them, and where they’ll stay, sure, until 
they learn better manners.” 

“ Oh, Mary, why did you die ? ” Maurice moaned. “ Why 
did I ever give your place to another? Oh, Mary, if you 
only could come back to us ! ” 

“ Here I am, Maurice ! ” 

The door opened. A form glided in — a woman’s. 
Judith heard the sound and turned. In the dim twilight 
she beheld Mary Ready ! With a shriek of terror, she 
fled to the farthest corner of the room, crying : 

“Oh, Maurice, save me! It’s her ghost! Go back, 
Mary ! I’ll never ill-treat the children more ! Here’s the 


mary’s ghost. 249 

key. Grace is in the lumber-room and Georgie in the 
closet. Oh, bad luck will come to me for iver now ! ” 

“ Go, Maurice, bring Grace to me. Tell her first, that 
she may not be frightened. And Georgie; find him. 
Now, Judith, look on me. You see I’m flesh and blood — 
not a ghost, as you suppose, thank Heaven ! but a wife 
returned to her husband, a mother to her children. What 
are you doing here ? and why are my darlings locked up ? ” 

“ He’ll tell ye all, and more too, I’m sure,” moaned 
Judith. 

“ Mother ! mother ! ” came the cry, and Grace fainted in 
her mother’s arms. Georgie clung about her skirt, caress- 
ing her hands, and with alternate words of love for 
mamma, complaints of and threats for Judith. 

“ Go ! ” said Maurice. “ Go ! I wish you were a man, 
that I could send you forth with blows and kicks ! ” 

“ Maurice, she is crushed enough. Be satisfied,” said 
Mary. 

“ Oh, you don’t know how bad she is ! Go ! Never let 
me see your face again,” continued Maurice, following her 
to the door. 

But she did not linger to hear his words. She left the 
house, and the next day, England forever. 

When Grace had been restored to consciousness, Mary 
explained to them the cause of her supposed death. A 
few days previous to Maurice’s last visit, a new patient 
was brought to the hospital. Mary, having improved so 
much in health and strength, was removed to the con- 
valescing ward, and her bed given to the other patient, 
suffering with the same disease. The same day a new 
attendant was placed in charge. In the hurry of preparing 
Mary’s bed for the new-comer, they neglected to remove 
the card bearing Mary’s name. The former attendant left 
immediately after, and her successor arrived about the 
same time that the sick woman was put in Mary’s place. 


250 


MARY’S GHOST. 


When the disease, taking an unfavorable turn, resulted 
in the death of the sufferer a few days after, the attendant 
quite naturally believed her to be Mary Heady, and when 
Maurice came, she gave him the particulars of his wife’s 
death, and went with him to her grave.* 

Mary of course knowing nothing of this mistake, grew 
very anxious when the weeks passed and Maurice came 
not, and no tidings reached her from home. 

Worrying so much, she grew worse again, sank into a 
nervous fever, and finally entirely lost her mind, and 
remained thus for many weeks. But at length, contrary 
to all belief, she again rallied, gained strength, and at last 
her mind was restored. Then she learned the truth. She 
determined not to write and explain the mistake, but wait 
until she was well enough to return to her loved ones. 
She had not heard of her husband’s marriage until she 
arrived in the village. 

“Oh, mamma, mamma, how I prayed for deliverance 
from our misery ! But I never dreamed of such happiness 
as this again,’’ said Grace. 

And her mother, pressing her to her heart, answered : 

“ Yes, love, now I am well again, my good child’s cares 
will be less, and her happiness greater, I trust. I know ! 
for God has always bountifully blessed loving, dutiful 
children.” 


*This occurrence actually happened in one of the London hospitals 
during the past year. 


ALL FIDO’S DOING. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

“ He never, never feared a foe, 

And never failed a friend.” 

I T was a glorious sight, and the passengers of the ocean 
steamer “Alaska ” gathered on the decks to watch the 
sun set, and slowly sink beneath the bosom of the broad 
Atlantic. 

Gradually the company separated, some lingering in 
groups, while the greater number selected partners for a 
promenade. 

More than one pretty maiden cast an admiring glance 
toward a young man who sat apart, and whose thoughts 
seemed apart — yes, away far off from the surrounding 
scene. 

He was a handsome man, and his attitude of unconscious 
grace displayed to the best advantage his manly beauty. 
By his side, around which his arm was caressingly thrown, 
was a noble Newfoundland dog. Fido — that was his name 
— made several attempts to draw his master’s attention to 
the merry company, but without effect. Still gazing out 
on the wide expanse he stood, the wind playing with and 
blowing the dark waving hair off from the brow so broad, 
high and clear. 

There was a depth of earnestness in his dark blue eyes, 
a sweet, sad expression about his mouth, that made one 
think he had suffered : a lost hope, perhaps ; and so it was. 

( 251 ) 


252 


ALL FIDOS DOING. 


Hugh Maynard had loved, as men sometimes do, with a 
love that can never he cast forth — that sinks deeper, 
ennobling and refining the heart in which it lives. Five 
years before, he had seen Edith Foster at the opera. Many 
times fate threw them near together at public places, until 
there grew a sort of smiling acquaintance between them. 
And Hugh grew to love, with all the ardor of his loving 
nature, the beautiful girl to whom he had never been 
introduced. 

Believing the acquaintance would he agreeable to the 
lovely Edith, he sought a friend of hers, and requested to 
he presented. Then it was he heard that which crushed 
his hopes, and left the impress of sorrow on his features. 

That very day on which he had sought to know her, she 
became the wife of a man old enough to be her father — 
aye, older than that — for she was twenty, and he near 
sixty. 

But what matter that? Was it not the most brilliant 
wedding of the season? Did not her anxious parents 
think they were doing the best to secure their daughter’s 
happiness when they urged her to accept, and gave her to 
the man who could clothe her in robes rich and rare, and 
deck her with costly jewels? And thus it was Hugh 
Maynard lost the object of his love. 

Gazing out on the blue water, and thinking of her — yes, 
still ever thinking, ever dreaming of her — Hugh Maynard 
remained until Fido grew impatient, and raising his paw, 
tapped him several times, until at last Hugh turned and 
said : 

“ What is it, old fellow ? ” And Fido’s eyes answered so 
plainly : 

“ I love you ; I am so sorry for you ! ” And he laid his 
head against his master’s breast, and gazed so earnestly 
up into his eyes. 


ALL FIDOS DOING. 


253 


Hugh knew just what Fido was telling him. And 
patting the noble creature’s head, he said : 

“ Yes, you love me ! Good, faithful Fido ! Come, I will 
walk around with you.” 

And turning, he was about to join the promenaders, 
when he was stopped. 

A beautiful boy of about five years came running up, 
and throwing his little arms around Fido, exclaimed : 

“ Oh, you nice, beautiful dog ! Come play with 
Willie.” 

An instant more, before Hugh could speak to the child, 
a little scream, a frightened exclamation, and a lady 
darted across the deck and caught up the child, and draw- 
ing him away, exclaimed : 

“ Oh, that terrible dog ! He might have torn you up ! 
Pray keep him away, sir ! ” And turning to another 
person who came hastily up, she said : 

“ Nurse, you must be more careful. Do not let Willie 
come near that frightful dog again.” 

Hugh was about to assure the lady of Fido’s harmless- 
ness and noble nature, when, as his eyes met hers, he 
became speechless, for there before him stood the woman 
that he had loved so long. 

And if, during those years gone by, she had ever 
thought of him, or remembered at all the silent admirer 
of her girlhood days, she failed to recognize him then. She 
was much excited, and moving off, thought probably that 
the gentleman was offended by her possibly uncalled-for 
expressions relative to his favorite. 

Daily she was before him — “ so near, and yet so far ” — 
so very far, for then, when constantly he beheld her 
leaning on the arm of an elderly, fine-looking old gentle- 
man, he could fully recognize the gulf between them. 
Often he would hear the little Willie calling “Papa.” 


254 


ALL FIDO'S DOING. 


And then he wondered if that woman, so young and beau- 
tiful, could be content. Happy, he thought, she could not 
be with one so much older than herself, and so very 
grave and dignified. What a merry, laughing girl she 
used to be ! and then so changed — such a sweet, subdued 
air of matronly dignity she had. But sometimes Hugh 
thought, or fancied, she gazed at him with an inquiring 
expression in her beautiful eyes. And again he was wild 
enough to imagine there came at times the old merry, 
laughing light, and he thought she remembered those 
“by-gone hours.” He sought no introduction. He felt 
it would be madness to be near, to speak to her, and have 
her sweet voice lingering on his ear. 

Fido grew very fond of little Willie ; but neither the 
mother nor nurse would allow him to approach when 
they were near. 

But nevertheless the friends managed to steal occasion- 
ally a chance to caress, when the watching ones were 
absent. Frequently, however, Fido heard himself called 
ugly names : “ Horrid dog,” “ Terrible creature,” and such 
like. Seven days had passed thus, when an event trans- 
pired that caused a very marked and favorable change in 
Fido’s behalf.* 

It was the dinner hour. Little Willie was on deck with 
his nurse, and she, seizing the opportunity afforded by the 
absence of the parents and others, of whom she was 
rather shy, was having a nice chat with one of the hands, 
and he was telling her just what she wanted to hear — 
“ how charming she was, and how he loved her.” 

Willie was entirely forgotten. And he was having a 
good time, too, amusing himself without interruption. He 
had mounted on the bulwarks, and was playing riding 
horse, when his attentioh was called to something in the 
water. With a shout he threw up his arms, bent eagerly 
forward — another instant, and the cry: 


ALL FIDO'S DOING. 


255 


“ Willie is overboard ! ” was caught, echoed and re-echoed 
until it reached the dining-saloon. But ere the terrified 
friends had reached the deck one was “ to the rescue.” 

As the eager, anxious, tearful eyes were bent upon the 
water, Fido rose above the agitated waves, holding up 
his precious burden. 

A triumphant cry greeted his ear — a shout of joy, 
thankfulness and encouragement. 

A moment after a boat was lowered, and the noble fel- 
low gently placed the insensible boy in the arms of the 
man waiting to receive him, and sprang in beside him. 

“ Brave Fido!” “Noble fellow!” “Good! faithful! 
true ! ” were the words that greeted him, as he returned to 
the deck. 

Moving off from the crowd, Fido, ever considerate, 
shook the water from his dripping form, and then sought 
his master, and stood waiting his greeting. 

“Well done! my brave fellow!” said Hugh, and Fido 
was happy. 

The mother had fainted as she reached the deck, 
but in a short time both she and her darling were doing 
well. 

Fido watched anxiously for Willie’s look of recognition. 
Before long he was rewarded. Willie’s arm was feebly 
raised to place it around his friend’s neck. And then the 
mother’s fears were forever chased away : and with her 
heart filled with gratitude to the faithful creature, she too 
clasped her arms around him, and Fido said — I mean 
with his eyes : 

“ Now you know I am not a bad fellow.” 

From that hour the child and Fido were inseparable. 

The next morning the old gentleman came up to Hugh, 
and said he had been sent by Willie’s mother to try and 
induce him to let her have Fido. She would give any 


256 ALL FIDO’s DOING. 

reasonable sum — yes, and more than that— to possess 
him. 

Hugh decidedly refused to part with his favorite. 

“ Could no inducement be offered you ? ” asked the old 
gentleman ; “ no amount of money ? ” 

“No, sir; money cannot buy Fido. We cannot be 
separated.” 

“Well, come with me. I will present you to my 
daughter, and perhaps she can talk you into feeling more 
favorably disposed.” 

“ Your daughter! ” Hugh was about to exclaim, but he 
repressed the words, and followed mechanically the old 
gentleman, and was introduced. 

He heard her sweet voice calling his name, pleading 
with him. Could he be dreaming? Was it he beside 
her ? Was she smiling as in those days gone by ? Where 
was her husband ? And then a thought, swift and full of 
hope, came to him. Her black robes ! What meant they ? 
Was she free? 

He yielded to the hope, and lingered near her side ; but 
she could not induce him to part with Fido. 

When after a while he was alone with Willie, he asked, 
“ Where is your papa, Willie ? ” And then came the 
word that gave back hope, and whispered of life and love 
at last ! 

11 One papa is here; and one God took away ! ” 

But two days remained ere they would reach Liverpool, 
then and there to part again, and, perhaps, forever. 

Hugh made the very best of his few remaining hours. 

They talked of those meetings in those other days, and 
Hugh knew he had been at least remembered, if nothing 
more. 

It was the continual and earnest request of Edith : 

“ Let us have Fido ? ” 

“ I cannot ! Nothing but death can separate us.” 


ALL FIDO’S DOING. 


257 


“Mr. Maynard, you are an artist. Money will further 
your pursuit, and aid your object in the land of arts. I 
will give a thousand dollars for Fido ! ” 

“I cannot; indeed, I cannot.’’ 

“ Two thousand ! ” 

“ Not for ten ! He is the only being that I know loves 
me. You would not take him, knowing that? ” 

She left him then — how ? In anger, and disappointed, 
perhaps ! 

It was the last day, almost the last hour. The shores 
of the old world were so near ! so soon they would have 
to bid adieu ! 

They stood together — Hugh and the woman he so truly 
loved. Willie was clasping Fido, cr}dng, and declaring he 
would not leave his friend. 

“ I must have him ! ” again she plead. “ What can I 
say ? what offer, to induce you to yield ? ” 

She put forth her hand in her earnestness ; and clasping 
it an instant, Hugh whispered : 

“You know my heart! you know what has lived for 
years there ! Give me your love. Take me — and then 
Fido will be your own ! ” 

She looked into his eyes. His soul was breathing forth 
through them the devotion of years. 

It was not the best place in the world for a love scene. 
Edith knew that, and looking at Hugh, but speaking to 
Willie, she said : 

“ You shall have Fido, Willie. Mr. Maynard has given 
him to us.” 

Thus he won his love. 

Six months after, on their return to their native land, 
Edith and Hugh were united. 

Fido sat looking up into his master’s eyes a few days 
after, and Edith said : 


258 


ALL FIDO’S DOING. 


“ How knowing he looks ! ” 

“ He is telling me how much he contributed to make 
me so happy,” answered Hugh. “ Noble, faithful, true 
Fido! How completely you won your mistress’ affec- 
tion ! ” continued the happy Hugh, speaking to and 
patting Fido. 

With her eyes beaming with love, Edith said : 

“ Is he telling you too, that noble natures must eventually 
win appreciation, and that the faithful and true are 
rewarded with success ? Ah, who could help loving such ? 
So it must, it is, and will ever be ! ” 


Yf HO DID SHE MARRY? 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^ ^ AH, dear, dear ! What shall I do ? Marry Abbott 

Vy Daws, and make myself miserable for life, or dis- 
obey my father’s command? I shall be committing a 
greater sin to perjure myself, as I should surely, if I 
promise to love, honor, and obey that man. I have not 
the least bit of affection for him. I might possibly endure 
life with him if — if — well, I might as well admit it — I 
did not love some one else.” 

Here Susie Barton dropped her pretty head in her 
hands and sobbed like a grieved child. Indeed she was 
scarcely more — only seventeen. She had always been 
subject to her father’s strong will, never dreaming of op- 
posing him in anything ; his word was the law to rule all 
her actions. And when he had directed her to receive 
Abbott Daws as her future husband, she had quietly 
acquiesced until, within the last few months, she had 
known Harry Clayburn. Then it was that the thought of 
a union with any other was dreadful to her. 

She had ventured to tell Abbott she did not love him, 
and begged him to relinquish his suit. But he only 
laughed at her, and said he would teach her to love him. 

Then she begged her father to send Abbott off; that she 
could not marry him ; she did not care for him one bit, 
and she knew she should grow to hate him, if she was 

forced to wed him. 

16 


( 259 ) 


260 


WHO DID SHE MARRY? 


But her father grew very angry, and swore that “ girls 
had no brains of their own,” and it was their parents’ 
duty to provide for such a deficiency; and finished by 
declaring that on a certain day, if Abbott wanted her, she 
should be married, or be no longer a child of his. 

It was after this appeal, and the result, that poor Susie 
was so miserable. 

She was sitting in the vine-covered arbor, and so ab- 
sorbed in her sorrow that she heard not the coming foot- 
steps until a pleasant voice whispered : 

“ Susie ! What, weeping ? ” 

Raising her tear-stained face, she saw the one who had 
shared her thoughts. 

“ Harry ! Oh ! I am so glad to see you ! ” she exclaimed. 
And then, almost in the same breath, sobbed, “ No, no ! 
I mean, you must not come. You must go away, Harry! ” 

“ Why, Susie? Well, now that I am here, I shall stay 
a while, until I know why you are weeping ; and until I 
tell you what I believe you already know — that is, how 
very dear you are to me. Susie, dry your tears now, and 
tell me : Don’t you care a little for me ? I have thought 
you did, and that has given me the courage to come.” 

“No, no! You must go away! Oh, I wish I was 
dead ! indeed I do ! ” sobbed the poor girl. 

“Susie, that is very wicked. You should wish to live, 
and be happier than now. What grieves you, little one?” 

“ Harry, I’ve got to marry Abbott Daws, and I would 
sooner die — ” 

“ Susie, you have got to — What do you mean ? ” 

“ Yes ; papa has sworn I shall be married on the fifteenth 
of next month, or he will never call me his child again.” 

“ Do you love Abbott Daws ? ” Harry anxiously asked. 

“ No, I hate him ! Oh, what shall I do ? ” 

“ Marry me, Susie ! I love you more than my own life. 


WHO DID SHE MARRY? 


261 


You don’t hate me, and by-and-by you will love me, per- 
haps. You like me a little now. Say, Susie, if you had 
your own way, which would you take ? ” asked Harry, a 
little roguishly. 

“You know well enough, Harry,” Susie blushingly 
replied. 

“ I had hoped so, my darling. We will manage some- 
how to save each other the misery that such a transaction 
would give us. Now I know you love me a little I shall 
•go to work in earnest. Tell me all about it.” 

Susie told of young Daws being the son of a very dear 
friend of her father’s, and he had given his word to his 
friend, if Abbott loved his daughter, he would do all he 
could to unite them. 

Moreover, Susie thought that her father had become 
embarrassed in some way, and Abbott Daws had relieved 
him. And his indebtedness to that young man was to be 
cancelled by her hand. 

When Susie had finished Harry looked very grave, but 
he tried to comfort her, and said, wdien parting : 

“ Keep up a good heart, love. I will win you, if I fly 
with you from the very altar.” 

Now Harry was a young lawyer of very fair promise. 
He had plead many cases and gained his suit. But here 
he knew pleading would be of no avail. He was well 
aware of the obstinate nature of Mr. Barton, and felt cer- 
tain his only chance of winning Susie would be by strategy 
— to outwit the father and the lover. Yet how to do it? 

Preparations for the wedding were going on; Susie 
growing terribly uneasy, notwithstanding Harry’s constant 
appeal to keep up her spirits and trust him. 

At about the time fixed for the marriage was also ap- 
pointed the day for the commencement of a very important 
trial — a murder case. Harry was the principal counsel for 


262 


WHO DID SHE MARSY? 


the defence. This, of course, so engrossed his mind that 
he could not give as much time to the case which was 
nearer his heart, or possibly he might have been bright 
enough to hit upon a plan to stop the marriage. 

Wishing, if possible, to avoid an elopement, which was 
to be the last resource, he applied to a friend of his, also 
of Mr. Barton’s, and sought his assistance. 

He also was a lawyer of high standing, whose advice 
Harry often asked upon many matters. This gentleman 
had business transactions with Mr. Barton, and Harry 
thought if the obstinate man could be approached by any 
one with effect, it would be by this friend. So Mr. Fair- 
leigh sought Susie’s father, and plead for the young folks, 
who loved each other. But nothing that could be said 
would move the hard-hearted man. 

“ If she is not married on the fifteenth, then it will be 
Abbott’s fault, not mine. If they are living, she shall be 
married then,” he said, with such a look and tone that 
Mr. Fairleigh knew it was useless to have any hope in that 
quarter. 

“ Then I must fly with her,” said Harry. 

This he had fully determined on, and had fixed the 
night of the fourteenth. 

All that day he was engaged very busily, arranging his 
papers for the defence in the coming trial. Mr. Fairleigh 
was looking over the list of witnesses to be summoned. As 
his eye caught the name of Albert Davis, he said : 

“What is this? Ah, I see! This is written to look 
like Abbott Daws. I thought it was that very troublesome 
fellow ! ” 

Harry had raised his eyes to look and listen to his 
friend, but in a moment more was deeply engrossed with 
his business. 

In another moment he was attracted by a merry 


WHO DIB SHE MARRY? 263 

chuckle, which increased into a loud, long, ringing peal 
of laughter. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, I have hit it now ! Ha, ha, ha ! You 
are all right now, my boy ! ” 

“ What is it ? ” asked Harry. And before he could get 
a reply from his friend, he began to think he had gone 
merrily mad. 

At last, restored to calmness, he said : 

“ Harry, my boy, have you sufficient faith in me, should 
I tell you, if you will wait until to-morrow, that you shall 
take your bride from her father’s hand, to give up the 
plan for to-night ? ” 

Harry looked at his friend with an expression of the 
greatest amazement. 

“ Say, can you trust me ? Look at me ! ” 

Harry looked again, and saw how earnest and true his 
expression was, and said : 

“ I can — I will ! ” 

“ Enough. My boy, make all your preparations. We 
will go to her house together to-morrow, at the appointed 
time. Now tell me who are the attendants — the brides- 
maid, and the gentleman to attend her? ” 

“Susie’s cousin, Miss Andrews, and Tom Drury, her 
affianced.” 

“Ah ! very well. They are as much your friends as his, 
I think ; eh ? ” 

“ More. Tom does not like Daws one bit. He only at- 
tends him because he does not wish any one else to wait 
with his lady-love.” 

“ Better still. Now trust me. You shall see some fun, 
my boy ! ” 

Beautifully looked Susie in her bridal robes, but pale, 
and with anxious eye she watched the clock as the hands 
drew nearer the appointed hour. 


264 WHO DID SHE MARRY? 

The marriage was to be a quiet one ; very few friends 
invited. The ceremony was to be at the church. Imme- 
diately after they were to leave for a northern tour. Mr. 
Barton did not feel just right about the match, and did not 
care to have many witnesses to a ceremony of which but 
few approved. 

The hour had come. The wedding guests were assem- 
bled in the church. The minister began the ceremony, 
and came to the part, “ Who giveth this woman away ? ” 
and Mr. Barton placed Susie’s hand in the one waiting to 
receive it. 

A few moments more the words, “ What God has joined 
together let no man put asunder,” told that the time for 
any interference was past. 

Susie was married. How had Mr. Fairleigh kept his 
word ? Where was Harry, and how had his faith been 
rewarded ? 

An hour after the wedded ones had received their 
father’s blessing and departed, he was seated with a few 
friends in his drawing-room, after having drank to the 
health of the bride and groom, when in rushed Abbott 
Daws ! 

“ Back again ! Why, what has happened ? ” anxiously 
asked Mr. Barton. 

“ Happened ! Why, just as I was coming in here, I was 
accosted by one of those fellows from the court-house, a 
bailiff, who held out a paper, saying, ‘ Mr. Daws — Abbott 
Daws, I believe.’ I told him I was that person. Then he 
said I must go with him. I told him I could not, just 
then. He insisted I must ; that I was summoned as a wit- 
ness in the ‘ Smith murder trial.’ I knew nothing about 
it, and told him so. But the emissary of the law — of the 
devil, I mean — said he knew nothing about that ; he only 
knew his duty, and that was to take me, dead or alive. I 


WHO DID SHE MARRY? 


265 


swore I did not know nor care if all the Smiths in creation 
were murdered ; I never could be the man he was after; I 
was sure it was a mistake. But all I could declare never 
moved him a bit. Go I must. He said I could be back 
in fifteen minutes. When he had hauled me up to the 
court-room, it was over an hour before the court opened. 
And all the time I was waiting I was trying to find some 
one to have the mistake corrected. But no one would 
understand or hear me until business commenced. Then 
I saw Clayburn and Fairleigh there ; and when they looked 
over the list of witnesses my name was not down, but one 
Albert Davis, that the stupid fellow who made out the 
subpoena mistook for Abbott Daws. So, after- all this 
delay, here I am back again. Where is Susie ? ” 

“Where is Susie? Where did you leave her ? I have 
not seen her since she was married and left the church ! ” 
exclaimed the bewildered father. 

“ Married ! Church ! Left ! What do you mean ? ” 

“What do you mean? Are you mad? Where is my 
daughter?” almost screamed Mr. Barton. 

“ I don’t know. Did I not tell you I was dragged off, 
just as I was entering this house, this morning ? I’ve not 
seen Susie to-day.” 

“ Is the man mad ? ” asked Mr. Barton, gazing inquir- 
ingly from one to the other. “ Sir, Susie is married, that is 
certain. Now what do you mean by saying you have not 
seen her?” 

“ Married to whom? Where were your eyes, sir? Mar- 
ried to whom ? ” 

“ I — I did not wear my glasses. I did not think it neces- 
sary. I thought it was you who stood beside — ” 

Just then Daws caught the sound of a half-suppressed 
titter, and turning round, he said angrily to the groom ’s- 
man: 

“ Were you blind, sir, too ? ” 


266 


WHO DID SHE MARRY? 


“ Certainly, sir ; I have been ever since Cupid wounded 
me!” the young man answered, glancing laughingly 
toward his lady-love. 

“And you, Miss Andrews ? ” 

“ I’m not at all blind, Mr. Daws. I saw the gentleman 
and knew him well. But if the bride was satisfied, and 
her father gave her away without any hesitation, I did 
not think it my place to object,” answered the bride’s-maid. 

“Who did she marry ? ” asked both men simultaneously. 

“Mr. Clayburn!” 

“ Oh, I see now ! The rascal ! When he came to my 
relief, he had consummated his villany. I’ll find him, 
and make him suffer for this! How completely these 
lawyers have honest men in their power ! ” exclaimed the 
enraged Daws, as he left the house, glad to escape the 
laughing eyes of the guests, none of whom seemed to have 
any sympathy for him. He did not find Harry. Whether 
his courage was not equal to the occasion, or whether his 
finding and fighting humor passed off, I do not know. I 
only am certain that there was no criminal case in which 
Mr. Daws’ name appeared, as either plaintiff or defendant. 

The wedding tour was postponed until after court ad- 
journed. And then, before Susie left, she had gained her 
father’s forgiveness, which, I think, was obtained princi- 
pally through the agency of Mr. Fairleigh again, in the 
form of a business transaction, putting Mr. Barton in pos- 
session of a sum sufficient to cancel all indebtedness to 
Abbott Daws. Harry had been successful in obtaining 
several very good fees ; and so, with his friend’s help, he 
could release his father-in-law, and cast aside the only 
cloud that darkened Susie’s life — her father’s displeasure. 

Mr. Barton has since grown very proud of his son-in- 
law, and now really laughs over the denouement of the 
wedding day, and says always, in conclusion : 

“Ah, well ; ‘ all is fair in love and war,’ you know ! ” 


WAS SHE TRUE? 


BY FRANCES HENSIIAW BADEN. 

^ ^ ^TEHERE goes Malomn Upton. Poor fellow ! I see he 
J- has not yet conquered that monster that possessed 
him last night.” 

“ What is the trouble with him, Charley ? ” asked the 
beautiful girl who was leaning on Charles Ashby’s arm, 
as he escorted her proudly through the Park. 

“ The trouble ! Nothing but his miserable, unhappy 
disposition — jealous , because the girl he admires more 
than any other girl in the world was the beauty of the 
reception last night, and of course had to accept some 
attentions from other gentlemen. I’ve not a particle of 
patience with him. He should have perfect confidence 
in the woman he seeks to win for his wife. I cannot 
understand such a state of feeling. I am always proud 
when my lady-love receives the homage she so truly 
deserves,” said Ashby, gazing fondly on his lovely com- 
panion. 

“ Thank you, Charley. I trust I shall ever be worthy 
of your confidence. But you have never been tried yet. 
I pity any one who feels as Malomn — ” 

“ I do not. Foolish fellow I I’ve never been tried, you 
say. I know it, love. But nothing in the world could 
make me jealous of any one. I have such perfect faith in 
you, Agnes, that nothing but your own words could make 
me doubt you.” 


( 267 ) 


263 


WAS SHE TRUE? 


Agnes smiled sweetly; but shaking her pretty head, 
looked doubting, and said : 

“ Charley, you think you know yourself ; but indeed 
you have never had anything to try your feelings. You 
have had me always near you, with no interference, ever 
‘since you first loved me. My mourning for dear father 
has kept me out of the gayeties of the world for two 
seasons. Just suppose you should ever see some hand- 
some, worthy young man very devoted to me, and I 
receiving his attentions, would you not then feel a little 
uneasy ? ” 

“ No, no. Nothing but your own words could make me 
doubt your love,” answered Charley, earnestly. And 
indeed he proved quite conclusively the truth of his 
words ; for the next season Agnes again appeared in fes- 
tive scenes, where she was universally admired, and 
Charley might more than once have found occasion to 
make himself miserable, if he had been like many of his 
friends. But he was truly a reasonable, sensible, loyal 
fellow, and Agnes Marvin fully appreciated his noble 
nature. 

“ Have I been sufficiently tried now, Agnes, to be per- 
mitted to repeat my declaration about jealousy ? ” asked 
Charley, after the last party of the season. 

“Yes, indeed, you are a true man. You love, and 
trust your love,” answered Agnes, placing her hand in his, 
which Charley gallantly carried to his lips. 

“The right time and person have not turned up yet, 
perhaps,” chimed in Agnes’ brother. 

“Oh, well, before another winter campaign comes, I 
shall have my bird in my own bower, and shall not fear 
her flying from me then. So, unless Mr. Wright comes 
forth pretty soon, he will not be in time to make me 
uneasy,” Charley said, laughingly. 


WAS SHE TRUE? 


269 


“ He may be found among the mountains this summer, 
Charley. Those retired country resorts are just the best 
places in the world for a flirtation. You had better follow 
your bird in her flight, my boy. Let me see ! When do 
you start, Agnes ? ” 

‘‘Mother has determined to leave quite early — the first 
of June, likely. She cannot stand the heat, it weakens 
her so much. You have promised to come in July, 
Charley. I hardly think there will be any one to get up a 
flirtation with so early in the season. Probably we shall 
be the only guests for a month or more.” 

“ Well, Charley, I shall be back and forward, and I will 
keep you advised as to the movements. You may depend 
on me,” said young Marvin. 

“All right, Tom. Thank you,” Charley laughingly said, 
as he moved off with Agnes for a walk. 

The spring months flew rapidly by, and with the first 
days of summer Mrs. Marvin and Agnes sought their 
retreat among the mountains. 

Tom escorted them ; and after seeing them comfortably 
fixed, returned home, and reported it the “ dullest place 
on earth.” 

Wearily passed the time until Charley could go to his 
lady-love. Then the season was fully advanced, and 
many guests were at the Mountain House; but among 
them none that Charley could possibly feel the least 
uneasiness about. Indeed, he quite regretted that there 
was no gentleman whose company would be at all desir- 
able to either Agnes or her mother in his absence. How- 
ever, he was soon relieved on that subject, by the arrival 
of an acquaintance of Mrs. Marvin’s, whom she introduced 
to Charley as her esteemed friend, Dr. Cameron. The 
doctor was a remarkably handsome man of about forty, 
and of very charming address. He immediately became 
a universal favorite. 


270 


WAS SHE TEUE? 


When Charley’s time for leaving came, he was really 
glad to be able to place Agnes and her mother under the 
doctor’s charge. 

A few weeks after his return to his city home, Charley 
was accosted by an acquaintance who had just left the 
mountain resort, with the remark : 

“ Look here, Ashby ! You better take a trip back to 
the mountains, and be looking after Miss Marvin. There 
is a gentleman up there who is very devoted, and he 
seems to be consoling that lady very effectually for your 
absence.” 

Charley laughed, and said he did not feel at all uneasy. 
And when his informer mentioned Dr. Cameron as the 
dangerous person, he was quite amused. The idea of the 
doctor rivalling him was really absurd. He was quite old 
enough for Agnes’ father ; and really, if Charley had been 
of a jealous nature, he would not likely have thought one 
so much older than himself a very formidable rival. He 
had promised Agnes to come up again for a few days 
previous to their return, and accompany them home. 

The day before he left to fulfil his promise, Tom Marvin 
came back ; and, calling on Charley, repeated the current 
report that “the doctor was very much pleased with 
Agnes.” 

“You better look to him, Charley. He may be a 
dangerous fellow for your peace of mind. He is very 
agreeable to both Agnes and mother, I can see plain 
enough.” 

When Charley reached his love, she welcomed him as 
cordially as ever. But there was no denying the fact that 
the doctor was more attentive than Charley thought 
necessary. Besides, one thing he soon noticed ; there was 
something about Agnes and the doctor that was not per- 
fectly open and clear to Charley — something that was 


WAS SHE TRUE? 


271 


concealed from him. Once, when he went unannounced 
into Mrs. Marvin’s private parlor, he found the doctor 
leaning over Agnes’ chair, and looking very intently, if 
not lovingly, into her face. She blushed and turned away 
quickly to welcome Charley’s entrance, hut in a very 
embarrassed manner. 

Many times he had seen the doctor call Agnes aside, 
and speak in an undertone to her. 

Charley began to feel a little hurt, if not jealous. Besides, 
he thought : 

11 If they are so much together when I am present, they 
surely must very well have given rise to the reports I have 
heard.” 

Still he was too proud to question or reproach Agnes ; 
but he could not help being a little cool to her. 

One day, at the dinner-table, an occurrence quite 
remarkable served to make Charley feel sure that Agnes 
was no longer true to him, if he had doubted it until 
then. 

They were seated, the doctor and himself, opposite 
Agnes, at the table. The different courses of the dinner 
had been removed, and they were tarrying over the 
dessert, when the doctor passed to Agnes an almond, 
saying : 

“ Eat a philopena with me, Miss Agnes, please? If I 
am the fortunate one, I shall — ” 

Ere he had finished his remark, Agnes glanced anxiously 
from one to the other gentleman, while her face was 
suffused with a rosy flush, which receding, left her very 
pale. She arose quickly, and left the table. Dr. Came- 
ron immediately followed. There were but few persons 
present at the time, and this little incident passed un- 
noticed, save by those interested. Mrs. Marvin looked 
very much annoyed, but offered no explanation. 

Charley’s mind was wavering between which was the 


272 


WAS SHE TRUE? 


better course to adopt ; to go charge Agnes with deceiving 
him, and give her back her broken promise, or to go call 
the doctor out, and demand an explanation. He had pretty 
well made up his mind to the latter, and was leaving the 
table for that purpose, when he remembered his oft- 
repeated declaration that, “ unless from her own lips he 
heard that she had changed, he would not doubt her.” 
So he determined to wait and see the result, at least a 
few days longer. 

But that evening his doubt was a certainty. No longer 
need he wait ; her own words told that. He had gone into 
the reception-room, and thrown himself down on a sofa 
near the window. It was twilight; the lamps had not 
been lighted, and no one occupied the room but himself- 
He had been there but a short time, when he heard foot- 
steps coming. A moment after Mrs. Marvin and Agnes 
came to the room, and were about entering, when Agnes 
said : 

“Don’t go in. Let us sit out here a while, it is so 
pleasant.” 

And they seated themselves just under the window by 
which Charley was. Mrs. Marvin asked : 

“ What are you worrying about, Agnes ? The loss of — ” 

“ Hush, mamma. You may be heard,” was the warning 
reply. “ I am not worrying, but I cannot get quite used 
to the new one yet. How strange Charley must have 
thought my conduct to-day ! ” 

“ Why don’t you tell him, Agnes, and have it off your 
mind? He will know it some time.” 

“ Of course he will, mamma. I hate so much to tell 
him ! Do you know, I really believe he is growing jealous 
of the doctor ; he lias been very distant to me for a couple 
of days past. How shall I tell him ? ” asked Agnes, in a 
troubled tone. 

“ If you do not, I shall, and end this matter. I do not 


WAS SHE TRUE? 273 

suppose it is a matter of vital importance to him whether 
your — ” 

“ Hush-sh — ” whispered the anxious Agnes. 

“ True or false,” continued her mother. 

“ I wonder where Dr. Cameron is ? I wish he would 
consent to live in town. I know he would make a for- 
tune in a short time, he is so skilful. W e must persuade 
him — ” 

“ Curse him ! ” bitterly exclaimed Charley, and a little 
scream from Agnes following the words which had escaped 
the lips of the sorely tried man, told him that, having 
exposed his presence, it was the best time and place to 
charge the false girl with her perfidy. 

In a moment more he was facing her. With compressed 
lips and flashing eyes, he stood gazing on her. 

“ Why, Charley ! Heavens ! how you frightened me ! 
What is the matter with you ? ” asked Agnes, really trem- 
bling, as she beheld the strange appearance of her lover. 

“ From your own lips I have heard all. Of the old and 
the new, the true and 'false. Oh, girl! And I have had 
such perfect faith in you ! Here, take back your ring ! ” 
And turning, he walked off a few steps ; when Mrs. Mar- 
vin, recovering her surprise, followed quickly after him, 
drew him into her own parlor, closed the door, and said: 

11 Now, my boy, what do you mean ? Ah, I know this 
has all come out of Agnes not telling you the truth at once. 
Well, well, I must do it now. You know — ” 

“ I know, madam, that the woman I believed true is 
false ! ” 

u No, no ! Agnes false f Never, my boy. It is her — 
her — 0 dear! I wish she would come and tell you 
herself! ” 

“ No matter, madam. I have heard already your words 
and hers while sitting under the window.” 


274 


WAS SHE TRUE? 


“ No, no ! Indeed you misunderstood. Agnes is not 
false — only one of her teeth ! ” 

Just at that moment Agnes came in, and in words 
scarcely intelligible for the merry laugh that was continu- 
ally rippling forth, she told him she had broken out one 
of her front teeth, which, having been before filled, was 
very frail; that Dr. Cameron was a dentist, and had 
replaced it with a new one; that he was fixing it that 
morning when he came in and found the doctor leaning 
over her chair. And that day, at the dinner-table, while 
eating the almond, she had knocked out and nearly swal- 
lowed the false one. That was the secret of all that had 
given him so much uneasiness. 

“ I really was very much worried about telling you, 
Charley. I did not know but you would feel bad that 
your lady-love had a false tooth ! ” continued Agnes. 

“A false tooth make me feel bad! No, not if every 
tooth in your head was false, so that your heart is true, 
and you are my own love still,” said Charley, catching her 
in his arms. 

‘‘And you doubted me, Charley ! How could you, after 
all your declarations against jealous} 7- , too ! ” 

“ When a man is tried as I have been, and has heard his 
love telling of the old and new , true and false , he may be 
well excused for thinking she was talking of the love and 
lover , and not of a tooth,” answered Charley, looking a little 
embarrassed. 

“ Now you will have a little more patience with Malomn 
Upton ; in a word, you will have a sympathizing heart for 
jealous men — eh, Charley ? ” asked Agnes, playfully. 

“ I don’t know about that. But I will always say, after 
this, that a person does not know how he will act until the 
time of trial comes, and counsel that we shall never 
censure the weakness of another until our own strength 
has been well proved.” 


MIRA-A CHRISTMAS STORY. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

“ Far, lingering on some distant dawn, 

My triumph comes more sweet than late, 

When from these blinding mists withdrawn, 

Thy heart shall know me — I can wait.” 

M IRA MANSFIELD was the adopted child of Howard 
Mansfield. She never knew the love of parents 
other than those who now called her daughter. Even up 
to the time of the opening of our story, she was still ignor- 
ant of the truth. 

When Mira was three years old, Mrs. Mansfield begged 
of her husband to open his heart and home again for the 
reception of the little son of her dead sister, suggesting 
besides the blessing he was conferring on the bereaved 
boy, he was securing happiness for little Mira. It was 
such a lonely home for her, without a playmate and com- 
panion. 

So David came — a noble lad of eight years — and the 
children grew up lovingly together. 

As they approached woman and manhood, the hope 
entered the hearts of their loving parents of uniting these 
young lives, as they never doubted for a moment that 
their hearts were already. 

Mira’s beauty and brilliant prospects drew round her 
many admirers and suitors, all of whom were coldly re- 
ceived by Howard Mansfield. 

At last he thought the time had come to impart his 

17 ( 275 ) 


276 


M I H A . 


cherished plan to his children; and was sorely disap- 
pointed when Mira decidedly refused to listen to any such 
arrangement. 

She was a loving, warm-hearted girl ; but wilful, way- 
ward, and defiant. She would not have her heart and 
hand disposed of; she would choose for herself. 

Mira well knew how truly David loved her, and even 
acknowledged his watchful care and devotion ; and most 
probably, had she been left to her own decision, would 
have found out in the course of time that she loved no one 
better than her brother David. 

Julian Archer presented himself at this time. His 
handsome appearance, brilliant conversation, and fascinat- 
ing manner misguided her heart, until Mira believed she 
really loved him. She refused David, and he left the 
country. 

Mr. Mansfield saw all this finally, and firmly rejected 
Julian’s proposals, and commanded Mira to do the same. 

It needed but one more interview — one hour longer to 
listen to Julian’s pleading voice — and Mira’s future lot 
was cast ! 

’Twas Christmas day. Howard Mansfield had been out 
with his wife to select a gift for his darling girl. 

Hurrying into his cheerful sitting-room, and bidding his 
wife bring Mira there — his eye is caught by a letter on his 
desk. ’Twas Mira’s writing. 

Quickly taking it up, he opened the letter, read a few 
words, pressed his hand to his heart, and read on. 

Mrs. Mansfield, returning just then, noticed the deathly 
pallor spreading over his features — approaching him in 
time to hear the words : 

“ Oh, God forgive me and shield her ! ” 

And, with a deep groan, he fell forward into her out- 
stretched arms. 


MIRA. 


277 


Her cries of alarm soon brought in the servants. Physi- 
cians were summoned; but all of no avail — Howard 
Mansfield was no more of earth 1 

They bore to her room the stricken wife ; then, and for 
many days after, quite insensible to all her sorrow. 

“ Died suddenly of heart disease,” was what everybody 
said, save one — Mira, then the wife of Julian Archer. Her 
conscience whispered constantly : 

“ ’Twas his child’s ingratitude, disobedience, and de- 
sertion ; her letter, bearing the cruel, fatal tidings of her 
flight, her marriage, unhallowed by a father’s blessing, 
that crushed the life from out her father’s noble, loving 
heart.” Sharp and bitter were the pangs of remorse. A 
few weeks more, and distant relatives of Mr. Mansfield 
came forward. No will was left, and they claimed and 
received everything save the wife’s portion. Then it was 
for the first time Mira became aware that she was only the 
child of his bounty. 

Julian Archer did not seek to disguise his disappoint- 
ment and chagrin. Yes, even in those early days, when a 
bride of only a few weeks, the truth was forced into her 
heart. She knew too well it was not the loving, trusting 
girl that he had wooed and won ; but the supposed heiress 
of immense wealth. 

When Mrs. Mansfield was sufficiently restored to 
strength, after the illness following the death of her hus- 
band, the housekeeper placed in her hands a letter, which 
she said Mr. David had left for her on the fatal morning. 
It bore the date of Christmas day, and read as follows : 

Dear Aunt: — When you receive this I shall have 
started on a journey, to end — God only knows where. I 
cannot stay longer. I have not the fortitude to behold 
Mira the wife of another. Sustain, love and comfort her 
more than ever before, for I fear in the future she will 


2 78 


MIKA. 


sorely need it. All that yon have ever lavished on me, 
now, for my sake, transfer to her. I have desired to save 
you and my kind benefactor an additional pang — on this 
day, which should have been so happy — for, before this 
reaches you, you will have a severe blow to bear; there- 
fore I have left without a parting blessing. Praying God 
to comfort and sustain you, I remain, lovingly, your boy, 

David Austin. 

All reason for concealment being over now, Julian 
Archer plunged deeper in the wine cup, more recklessly 
sought the gaming-table. Poor Mira was bitterly suffering 
the punishment of her disobedience. This cup was to be. 
drained to the very last drop. 

A year rolled on, and a little boy was sent to comfort 
the miserable wife, and for a time served to lure the 
father from his scenes of vice; but the old fascinations 
were too strong, and he soon returned to the old haunts. 

Time wore on two years more, and there came to the 
miserable woman another child, this time a little girl. No 
joy greeted her coming. In truth the sorrowful mother 
would have felt relieved if God had taken the little one to 
himself; then she would not see her suffering, perhaps for 
the very necessaries of life. And what would be that little 
one’s future ? possibly as miserable as her mother’s. 

“Can you not have faith?” Mrs. Mansfield would ask. 
“ God knows what is best for you, my child. Try to have 
faith, and ask for strength to bear on.” 

“ No, no, I cannot ! What right have I to expect aught 
but misery ? ” 

The little one lived on, and gradual^, as the mother 
gazed into the sweet eyes, a feeling of renewed strength 
entered her breast. And •when the little one was a month 
old she said, “ Mother, we have never spoken of a name 
for the baby. I think I shall call her Faith ; for, when- 
ever I look into her eyes, they seem to bid me be strong, 


MIRA. 


279 


be hopeful, have faith in God’s goodness and mercy. 
Those little eyes have the strangest and most powerful 
influence over me.” So the little girl was named “ Faith.” 

Affairs were growing worse and worse with Julian 
Archer, Mrs. Mansfield almost entirely supporting his 
family. At last there came a terrible blow. The crime 
of forgery was added to his vices. 

This taxed very severely Mrs. Mansfield’s now fast 
diminishing means ; but again she came forward and 
averted the impending punishment and disgrace. 

“ For Mira and her children’s sake,” she said. 

Julian Archer’s naturally delicate constitution soon gave 
W'ay. Constant dissipation was telling fast upon him ; and 
in five years from his marriage he was a hopeless invalid. 
For months he lay suffering and helpless. How Mira 
clung to that poor, miserable wreck, pity and duty alonq 
binding her; and at length she was rewarded by her 
penitent, dying husband’s love and full appreciation that 
he truly knew her worth. And she had the blessed 
assurance that he passed from earth comforted in the 
hope of forgiveness, relying with perfect faith on God’s 
mercy. 

It was with the severest economy alone that Mrs. Mans- 
field could now provide an humble home for herself and 
her loved ones. Few comforts were theirs ; and soon only 
the real necessaries could be obtained. 

Time flew on, and their boy, little Frankie, was old 
enough to help a little with an occasional fee for his ever 
ready services. At last he was taken into a store to run 
errands, and, after serving in that capacity for two years, 
he received a promotion, and at fourteen he exulted in the 
position of a salesman, receiving six dollars a week. Of 
great service was this small amount, for a long illness of 
his grandma’s had greatly increased their expenses, and 


280 


MIRA. 


now absolutely all was gone, nothing remaining of her 
once abundant means. 

Little Faith was now twelve years old. She was not 
idle either ; constantly were her little fingers busy with 
her needle, and wondrous were the pretty things they 
produced. She was a bright, hopeful, merry child ; neither 
want nor the surrounding gloom of the house could cloud, 
except for a few moments at a time, her fair brow. Often 
would Mira say : 

“ Oh, if it were not for Faith, I should die of despair. 
She is truly a blessing sent to comfort my dark pathway.” 

It was Christmas Eve. Frankie had not drawn his pay 
for two weeks, but saved it to get something nice for their 
Christmas. 

“A real good dinner they would have once more,” he 
determined. 

But oh, how those bright visions were driven to flight ! 
Poor boy ! With a face on whose every feature despair 
was plainly marked, he rushed home on that bright day, 
dropped his face in his mother’s lap, and sobbed as if his 
young heart was nearly broken, and in truth it almost was. 

At last the terrified mother failing to draw the trouble 
from his lips, Faith at length succeeded. 

“ Frankie, be a man. Let us know what the trouble is, 
and then we will know what to do. Tell us, brother, dear. 
We know it is not death , because all we love and all that 
love us are here. Disgrace it cannot possibly be, for you 
are the best boy in the world. Speak, brother, darling ; 
we don’t care for anything else. We can laugh at it — 
can’t we, mamma, grandma ? ” And with her arms around 
him, she drew forth the truth. 

He told of a great deficiency in the accounts of his 
department ; that there was only one other person besides 
himself engaged there, and he had long been with his 


MIRA. 


281 


employers, and they had great confidence in him. There 
was certainly a theft committed, and suspicion pointed 
towards himself. The young man in every way endeav- 
ored to strengthen this opinion. So the poor boy was 
suspended, his wages withheld until further light should 
be thrown on the affair. 

Frankie affirmed his innocence, and expressed his 
belief in the guilt of his assistant, who had been so 
anxious to fix the crime on him. 

“ Never mind, brother, dear ; all will be right yet. I feel, 
I know it. We are sure of your innocence, so don’t worry 
or grieve any more. Your employer will find out the 
truth, and then he will be sorry enough for treating you 
so. Bear up, darling mother, perhaps we will feel much 
better to-morrow.” 

“ To-morrow ! Oh, child ! this day fifteen years ago I 
was as happy and hopeful as possible. To-morrow the 
same number of years, I took the fatal step which has 
brought so much misery on those I love. Oh, when will 
this end ! ” 

“ Poor, dear David ! where can he be all these years ? 
If he were near, our sorrows would surely end,” murmured 
Mrs. Mansfield. 

“ Mother, if you would not add the last blow to my 
misery, speak not of him ! ” 

“ Well, mamma, I am going out with my work. I’ve 
got a lot of pretty things, and I will bring home money 
enough for a few days. I will get you something for 
Christmas, mamma. Now, smile on me, and I am off!” 

And Faith started forth, to meet with a very disheart- 
ening accident, but return triumphantly. It was near 
dark, and she had a long way to go, but the hopeful, 
brave-hearted little girl went fearlessly on. 

* * * * * * * 


282 


MIRA. 


Walking leisurely along the brilliantly lighted street, 
every now and then stopping to gaze on some object of 
interest, was a man apparently in the prime of life — the 
brown hair so thickly sprinkled with silver threads alone 
contradicting this idea of youthful age. 

His was a face telling plainly of the noble spirit within. 
Infancy, youth, and age, gazing on that clear, open brow, 
into those gentle, loving eyes, might all go there, seek 
and find on that broad breast sympathy, safety, comfort 
and protection. 

He was speaking to himself — “ Fifteen years ago I bade 
farewell to my home in this city, and now I am here 
again a perfect stranger — no friends, no one to bid me 
welcome. With everything to purchase happiness, some 
would think, I am so desolate, so destitute ! ” 

His thoughts were cut short then by a sound of flying 
feet — a little scuffle — then a slight, childish form is before 
him, an eager eye lifted to his for a second, and with out- 
stretched arms she springs into his, crying : 

“ You will save me ! ” 

“ Why, what a little fool ! She has fainted. We did 
not mean to frighten her so, sir. We only offered her a 
bundle of candy for a kiss. When she began to run we 
thought she wanted a race,” said the foremost of the two 
lads who followed the child. 

Severely reproving them for their rude, unmanly 
behavior, the stranger bore the little one into a neighbor- 
ing druggist’s. The restorative acted happily on the 
terror-stricken little Faith, who very soon was quite 
sensible to her perfect safety. 

But the next thought was of her money. Her 
little fortune, alas ! it was gone. She had lost it in her 
flight. 

Oh, what should she do ! she cried, and then told her 
friend her pitiful story. 


MIRA. 


283 


“ What is your name, little one ? ” he asked. 

“ Faith Archer ; ” and soon the confiding little heart had 
told the story of all their sorrow. 

“ Mira’s free, and needing comfort and protection ! Thank 
God for this chance of bestowing happiness on her children,” 
murmured David Austin, for it was he. 

Anxiously the waiting ones at home watched for the 
return of Faith. Still time passed on, and she came not. 
Fears numberless and terrible entered their hearts. Oh, 
why did she not come ! 

At last their ears caught the sound of her little feet, and 
soon she was beside them. Still pale and trembling, she 
told them of her danger, escape, and loss of money, but 
quickly adding : 

“But oh! I found something better than money — a 
real friend. He will be here soon ; he has stopped to get 
us Christmas things.” 

“ Faith, what have you done ? Invited a stranger here? 
How can we receive his gifts ? Impossible, child ! ” said 
her mother. 

“ Yes, you can — you will, when you see him, trust and 
love him as I do,” said the child, confidently. 

In a very short time, Faith sprang to the door and 
brought in her friend. 

“ David ! ” burst simultaneously from Mira and her 
mother’s lips. 

Clasping his aunt to his bosom, David approached, and 
stood hesitating before Mira. She could bear sorrow, but 
joy was too rare — too much for her feeble strength. 
Murmuring “God is merciful — David back again!” she 
fell senseless into his outstretched arms. 

He had heard sufficient to satisfy — at least for the 
present — his thirsting heart. He was welcome home he 
felt full well. 


284 


MIRA. 


Surrounded, then, with love and comfort, Mira soon 
grew better and cheerful. 

Christmas morning dawned, bringing assurance of more 
hope and happiness than either of those severely-tried- 
hearts had felt for many, many years. 

The children were busy with their presents, Mrs. 
Mansfield wisely out of the way, when David drew from 
Mira the consent that he should, in the future, guide her 
pathway, love and protect her children. There was no 
need of waiting ; no better time for their union than that 
blessed day. So that Christmas saw Mira again a bride, 
this time blessed with the perfect assurance of what she 
had never known before — the true love of her husband’s 
honest heart. During that day, Frankie’s employer made 
them a call, to express his deep regret at the unfortunate 
mistake of the previous day. The guilty person was 
discovered (the one Frankie had suspected), and the gen- 
tlemen of the firm were all anxious for the boy’s return, 
and offered him a considerable increase of salary. The 
delighted boy would willingly have gone, but David Austin 
had other employment for him. Knowledge to be sought 
and gained was Frankie’s future work. 

“Come, Frankie; come, my darling children; let us 
start forth with Faith to guide our way. We must find 
some desert spot to-day to cast some happiness upon. 
Our hearts are so filled and overflowing with joy, we can 
well afford to be liberal,” said the happy man, whose breast 
was almost bursting with gratitude to Heaven for the light 
and love which had at last blessed his life. 

Many poor hearts blessed his bounty that day — children 
were made merryj and age comforted. 


A TERRIBLE LESSON 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

“And he became a wreck at random driven, 

Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven.” 

NY person who visited the Insane Asylum, at South 



Al. Boston, cannot fail to remember a young man, whose 
sad state of mind excited so much interest in the hearts 
of all who saw him. About fifteen years ago, I went with 
a friend of his to see him. She told me he was only 
twenty-five, and had been an inmate of that place over 
four years. I would have taken him to be quite double 
that age, when I first saw him. His hair was perfectly 
white — suddenly blanched, I knew afterward; it must 
have been by some great blow either of sorrow or terror. 
When I looked longer on him, I saw that it was only from 
his hair that I had judged him so old. His eyes were 
dark, and brightened with pleasure when my friend gave 
him some beautiful flowers she had taken with her ; and, 
when he had them in his hand, a really charming smile 
illumined his fine countenance, and then I could see how 
young he was in years. In sorrow only aged. 

u Did she send them ? I know she did,” he said, and I 
was surprised to hear the giver assent. I knew she had 
purchased them on our way. 

“ Is she coming soon? I’ve waited so long; almost a 
week, I think.” 

Again my Mend answered in the affirmative, and 
added : 


( 285 ) 


286 


A TERRIBLE LESSON. 


“ Very soon, when she is better ; that is, a little 
stronger.” 

After leaving him, she said to me : 

“We have to humor him thus. I will tell you all about 
him when we get home.” 

That afternoon Kate told the story thus : 

“ Less than five years ago, a young friend and college 
chum of uncle’s came to visit us. Harry Cameron was a 
man of fine promise. He had graduated with the first 
honors of Yale. 

“ Uncle Malcolm used to tease him very much about his 
having reached the age of twenty-one, and never having 
1 seen any girl who could woo him from his bo( ks,’ as he 
had told his fellow-students was the case. ‘ Wait until I 
have you with us, Harry ; and if I do not introduce you 
to a girl who will make you forget your books, and every- 
thing else but herself, then I’m very much mistaken.’ 

“ He came to us, but uncle Malcolm was disappointed 
so much, that the beautiful girl whom he had so deter- 
mined should win the heart of Harry was out of town. 
But we had an excellent picture of her, and this was 
shown to our guest, with such oft-repeated praises of her 
talents, beauty, grace and loving nature, that no wonder 
if he was really in love with the girl before he had ever 
seen her. Would to Heaven he never had ! But fate 
willed it otherwise. 

“ The last day of Harry’s stay had come. On the mor- 
row he was to bid us 1 good-by,’ for six months at least, 
the doctor said. 

“ The last night, we all went to a very large party given 
by a cousin of ours to uncle Malcolm and his friend. 

“ We had hardly got into the dancing-room when uncle 
Malcolm came rushing up, and said in a low voice : 

“ ‘ Why are you so late ? Camille is here. She reached 


A TERRIBLE LESSON. 


287 


home this morning. Come, Harry, I will introduce you. 
But I know her card is filled; you will not be able to 
secure a dance. But you can see and know her. 5 

“ It was as uncle had said. She was engaged for every 
dance. But Harry was introduced, and the few short- 
moments he was with her proved the truth of all our 
encomiums. 

“ Never had I seen Camille Lovering look so beautiful 
as that night. 

“ Poor Harry ! I can recall so plainly even now, his 
look of adoration. 

“ I know, if he had not feared the ridicule of his com- 
panions, he would have delayed his journey. When we 
were bidding good-night to our friends, Camille was about 
going too. She came to me, and said : 

“ ‘ Why were you so late ? I was so sorry I could not 
dance with your friend ! But better luck next time, Mr. 
Cameron. 5 

“ ‘ I shall leave the city to-morrow morning, for several 
months, 5 he said. 

u 1 1 am really sorry. I have heard Mr. Graham speak of 
you so much, I feel as if I knew you quite well. Good-by, 
then. Come back to us next season, and then we can have 
many dances, I hope, 5 she answered ; and taking the arm 
of her escort, entered her carriage. 

“ Her pleasant manner and kind words filled Harry’s 
heart with hope. 

“ ‘ Oh, if I had only known her longer ! 5 he said, after 
we were home again. 

“ ‘ I tell you what to do, Harry. Write to her, 5 said 
uncle Malcolm. 

“‘I would not dare. She would think me very im- 
pertinent, 5 said Harry. 

. “ ‘Not a bit; I know her well. Write a little note, and 


288 


A TERRIBLE LESSON. 


ask permission to correspond with her. If she object, then 
there is an end of it, and no harm done.’ 

“ Will you get me the answer, and send it to my first 
stopping place, if I act under your suggestion? ” 

“ { Indeed I will I You leave the note, and— let me see 
—you will be in St. Louis on Thursday, to remain three 
days. You shall get the reply while there 1 ’ 

“And so poor Harry did as uncle Malcolm had sug- 
gested ; and when he left us the next morning, the last 
words he said were : 

“ ‘ Do not disappoint me, Malcolm. Hours will be ages 
until I know my fate 1 * 

“And now I must continue my story not with my own 
knowledge, but as I heard it from a friend who was with 
him. 

“ This gentleman told us, when they reached St. Louis, 
Harry was in a state of such feverish excitement, that he 
thought he would become really ill. 

“ The second day of his stop in that city, letters came 
from uncle, as he had expected. 

“ For several minutes he held them in his hand, as if 
fearing to open them. 

“At last he opened one, read a few lines, and then 
uttered : 

“ 1 Thank God ! ’ in a fervent manner ; and putting the 
other letter in his bosom, went to his room to read that 
alone. 

“ From that hour he seemed another man — calm and 
happy. 

“ He had received the reply to his request. He could 
write to Camille. 

“ And so the correspondence was begun, and continued. 
After a while he received her picture, and from that and 
the increasing kindness and confiding tone of the letters, 


A TEKKIELE LESSOtf. 


289 


Harry was so hopeful of success that he offered Camille 
his heart and hand. And then again returned the manner 
of terrible anxiety until the hoped-for letter came. Then 
his friend knew that ‘ all was well.’ 

“Yes, Harry Cameron looked on the beautiful picture, 
and believed the original would be his wife. Our friend 
told us once he heard him murmur : 

“ ‘ Heaven bless and protect my darling, and make me 
worthy of her ! ’ 

“ Months passed thus, until the time was near for Harry’s 
return home. 

“At this time uncle Malcolm was called suddenly down 
South to the bedside of a dying brother. Harry Cameron 
came again to this city. But as uncle was absent, he stopped 
at a hotel. None of our folks knew of his arrival until the 
terrible — But I must not anticipate. 

“ Delaying neither for rest nor food, only long enough to 
change his travelling suit, Harry sought the home of 
Camille. Sending up his card, he awaited her coming. 

“ In a few moments the servant returned, saying Miss 
Lovering was in and would be down in a short time. Al- 
most directly afterward he heard a light, quick step, the 
rustling of her flowing robes, and Camille, in a beautiful 
evening dress, entered the door, and putting forth her 
hand, said : 

“ ‘ I am so glad to see you back again, Mr. Cameron.’ 

“ He sprang forward, caught her hand, and clasping her 
to his bosom, exclaimed : 

“ ‘ Oh, my darling, why do you not say Harry ? ’ 

“With a wild, frightened look she escaped from his 
arms, exclaiming: 

“ ‘ Mr. Cameron, what do you mean ? Are you mad ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh, I have wounded you. I should have calmed my 


290 


A TERRIBLE LESSON. 


feelings. But oh, Camille ! Camille ! forgive me, and call 
me Harry.’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Cameron, what have I ever said or done that you 
dare to address me thus ? ’ she asked, in a tone indignant 
and surprised. 

“ ‘ What shall I say ? How shall I tell you my love, 
dearest? Must I woo so differently in person than by the 
pen ? Oh, Camille, do not treat me thus ! Speak to me 
now, as you have been doing so many months.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, you surely must be mad ! What can you mean ? 
I never addressed but about a dozen words to you in my 
life, and that when I first saw you, and the only time until 
now.’ 

“ ‘ What ! Oh, do not try me thus, or I shall grow 
mad ! See, see your dear picture face that I have worn for 
months next my heart. Now tell me. You are teasing 
me ; for what ? ’ 

“ ‘ Where did you get that ? I never gave it to you. Oh, 
some one must have been playing you a trick. Mr. Cam- 
eron, I cannot understand how else you have come thus 
to me.’ 

“He staggered, grasped a chair a moment, and then 
again starting forward toward her, drew forth some of the 
letters, and said : 

“‘Ah, you cannot, you will not, deny these! You are 
trying me too severely, Camille. Love me, love me, or I 
must die ! ’ . 

“ ‘ Mr. Cameron, try to compose yourself ; and believe 
me, I am terribly grieved that you should suffer so. But 
I never have written you one word in my life.’ 

“ ‘ Love me ! love me ! ’ he implored, kneeling beside 
her. 

“ ‘ Mr. Cameron, please rise, and try to be calm.’ 

“ ‘ Can you not love me ? ’ again he pleaded, his voice 
growing low and trembling. 


A TERRIBLE LESSON. 


291 


“ c I cannot. Oh, how can I, when I am the promised 
wife of another? ’ 

“ One low, agonizing groan escaped him, and he fell for- 
ward, fainting at her feet. 

“A cry from Camille brought in her father and brother. 
A few words from her explained as much as she knew. 

“When he recovered sufficiently to be removed, my 
father was sent for, and he took Harry home with him. 
But from that day his reason was gone. Yes, the man you 
saw to-day is poor Harry, a maniac, the result of a prac- 
tical joke.” 

“ Your uncle’s ? ” I asked. 

“Yes, yes; that is why uncle Malcolm is so sad. I 
knew nothing of it until after poor Harry was where you 
saw him to-day. I went south a few days after Harry first 
left us. Uncle Malcolm, with the help of a cousin of Ca- 
mille’s, carried on the terrible deception. They intended 
to break off, or in some way end it with a pretended jilting 
affair, as they knew Camille was soon to be married — they 
thought before Harry’s return. But uncle’s sudden trip 
south brought it to the final and sorrowful termination. 
Poor fellow ! Likely enough, any great shock would have 
caused the same fatal result.” 

“And where is Camille ? ” I asked. 

“ You have seen her ; she is Mrs. Forrester ! ” 

“ Oh, yes ; and beautiful enough to win such madden- 
ing love. Has she ever been to see him ? ” 

“No; she cannot bear to, she says. We always tell 
him she will come when she is strong enough. We carry 
him flowers and messages from her, and he is ever waiting 
for her coming. Uncle Malcolm suffers the most of all. 
His has been a severe punishment, for what he thought 
1 only a little fun.’ ” 

Three years after my friend’s story, I received a letter 
from her, in which she wrote. 

18 


292 


A TERRIBLE LESSON. 


“ Harry Cameron waits no more on earth for the coming 
of Camille. His wounded spirit has soared away to the 
realms of perfect love. There he can watch for her coming 
with perfect trust, for she has promised to meet him 
there.” 

She went to see him several times during the last days 
of his illness, and was beside him, his hand clasped 
in hers, when the clouds that shadowed his mind and 
heart were swept away, and light and love were found 
beyond. 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

B ANG went the hall door. Over and down the stairs, 
yelping and crying, retreated the petted dog, who 
sprang forward to welcome the noisy comer. And Charley 
Hartley dashed open the door of the cozy sitting-room, 
and flashed an angry glance on a pretty girl who was 
seated there. 

In a second after, from the next room, came a bright, 
cheerful-looking little woman, who asked very quietly, as 
if she was quite accustomed to such goings on : 

“ Well, Charley ! What’s the matter now ? ” 

“ Matter ? Matter enough ! I’ve a mind to wring that 
fellow’s neck ! ” 

“And get on your own not a very desirable tie?” sug- 
gested the little woman. 

“ I don’t care. That confounded popinjay is always in 
my way. I just met him coming from here. Yes ; and 
in his button-hole a sprig of that mignonette and ge- 
ranium leaves. And he shall never have a chance of 
wearing more ! ” 

Crash, crash, went one pot after another of the beautiful 
plants, out on the sidewalk. 

“ Oh ! I declare, this is too bad ! For shame ! to serve 
Flory’s flowers in that way!” said the pleasant-looking 
little woman, thrown a little out of her usual even and 
quiet demeanor. 


( 293 ) 


294 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


“Well, what did she give that puppy those flowers 
for ? And most likely pinned them on his coat, too. Oh ! 
if I only had hold of him now, I’d spoil his good looks 
for a time ! I’ll — yes, I will go right after him now, and 
make a jelly of him ! ” exclaimed Charley, striding toward 
the door. 

Flory looked frightened and appealingly toward the 
little woman, Charley’s aunt, who went up to that young 
gentleman, quietly led him to a seat, and said, with a 
merry little smile : 

“Never mind about the jelly, dear; I’ll make all 
you want. Come! you shall have some delightful for 
your dinner now, without the trouble of going out 
for it.” 

Charley could scarcely restrain a smile then; and Flory, 
seizing the temporary calm in the storm, said, in a tremu- 
lous voice : 

“ Indeed, Charley, I did not pin the leaves on his coat, 
and only gave them to him after he had asked me 
twice. I thought it would look selfish and rude, and 
so what could I do but cut them and hand them to 
him? Only for politeness’ sake, Charley. Indeed, noth- 
ing more.” 

“Yes; and for politeness’ sake, I suppose, when that 
fool asks you to love him and marry him, you will 
do it.” 

“Oh, Charley! how can you talk to me so?” sobbed 
Flory, and she arose to leave the room. The storm had 
raged, and was over then. Flory ’s tears immediately 
brought Charley to himself again, and starting after her, 
he drew her back, saying : 

“There, there! Don’t cry, Flory. I’m a brute, and 
none but an angel like you could ever love or bear with 
me. Do forgive me ! I know you are as true as can be. 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 295 

Smile again, Flory, or I’ll put an end to my miserable 
self.” 

Flory smiled, but a moment after looked, with a quiver- 
ing lip, toward the vacant window-sill. 

“Don’t, Flory! don’t look toward that window again 
until I fill it with flowers. I’ll give you all in all the 
green-houses in town, if you won’t,” said Charley, with a 
very repentant look. 

“ Never mind about that. You just go and bring in 
those you have pitched out, and get up some pots from 
the cellar. We’ll see what can be done with those. Flory 
would sooner have them than all you have promised,” 
said aunt Mary. 

And Charley flew to do her bidding. 

The flowers were replanted, with good prospect of their 
doing all right again. And after Charley had eaten his 
dinner, and was enjoying his cigar, aunt Mary thought it 
advisable to give him a good talking to. 

Charley was fearfully quick and high-tempered ; but 
aunt Mary was instrumental in making him so. She was 
a childless widow. Charley and Flory her adopted ones. 
Both were very dear to her, but Charley was her idol — her 
only brother’s orphan child. Fearing lest she might not 
give him as much love as his dead mother would have 
done, and that she would not be as kind and good, she 
lavished not only her affection, but everything else on the 
boy, thus doing him a great evil. She never permitted 
him to be opposed or crossed in any wish, and so reared 
him to be what he was. Aunt Mary concluded her 
“good talk” in the usual way. 

“ I declare, Charley, if you do not curb your temper, 
you’ll do something dreadful yet, and not only bring my 
gray hairs in sorrow to the grave, but yourself to the State 
prison or the gallows.” 


296 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


Charley went into a rage always very readily, and with 
the slightest cause ; but the young man to whom he had 
vowed vengeance was his particular aversion. James 

Hendricks had been in P but a few months, but quite 

long enough to become very popular with the young ladies, 
who declared him the “dear delightful Mr. Hendricks, 1 ” 
and “ the charming gentleman.” He always had money 
enough to, and spent it liberally. Where, or by what 
means he obtained it, no one knew, or cared, I suppose. 
Now this charming fellow was always in our Charley’s 
way. If he was at a party and asked a girl to waltz, or 
dance anything, she was “ engaged, thank you.” And the 
next moment he saw her carried off by the “ dear delight- 
ful Mr. Hendricks.” Two or three times, when walking 
on the street, he had heard quick, light footsteps behind 
him, and an instant after, a sweet voice saying something 
very pleasant, and turned to see a lovely girl, who, with a 
start, would say, “ Oh, excuse me ! I thought it was Mr. 
Hendricks.” Yes, they were alike, surely. Flory said so, 
and that was the reason why she couldn’t help liking him a 
little : everybody said so. Charley declared him to be his 
evil genius. Indeed, he had good cause to think so before 
a great while. 

Hendricks saw how much Charley disliked him, and he 
seemed to seize every opportunity to worry him. All 
Flory ’s quiet dignity, indeed cold reception of his atten- 
tions, did not deter his frequenting the house. She could 
not help treating him just civilly — nothing more. As he 
never had asked her to have him, she could not discard or 
send him off. So Charley’s outbursts of temper, with 
regard to that young man, were quite frequent. 

At length one day he said, that if ever that fellow was 
permitted to enter the house again, that he never would — 
he’d leave the country. And when his aunt, or Flory, saw 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


297 


him again, he doubted if it would be in this world. So 
when Mr. Hendricks called again, the servant declared 
Miss Flory “ not at home.” The young gentleman said he 
“ would step in and leave a little note for her.” And so 
he did, and was just coming out when Charley was return- 
ing to dinner. It was enough. His oath was taken. He 
turned straight about, went to the bank, drew his deposits 
there, and that very afternoon took the train to New York, 
thence the steamer en route to Liverpool, purchasing a 
suitable wardrobe for his voyage while waiting in New 
York for the steamer to sail. On the eve of starting he 
telegraphed home his intention, having previously written, 
telling them why he had left home, and so on. 

After a very pleasant trip across the vast water, Charley 
reached Liverpool. Scarcely had he stepped on shore, 
when, to his immense surprise, he was ‘accosted by a tap 
on the shoulder, and a not very agreeable-looking indi- 
vidual said : 

“ You are from P — — , I believe ? ” 

“ I am,” answered our hero. And, "not liking the 
familiar manner of the unpleasant-looking individual, 
added, “And is it any business of yours where I’m from ? ” 

“Well, yes. You’ll think so yourself after a little.” 
And drawing from his pocket a paper, he read out, “ Five 
feet, eleven inches,” glancing at Charley, and nodding his 
head; “broad shouldered, fine form;” another glance, 
and a grunt of approval ; “ brown hair, dark, and worn 
long glance third, with “just so;” “dark blue or gray 
eyes ; ” glance fourth and “ certainly,” with another nod ; 
“ heavy whiskers and moustache.” After the fifth glance 
came a slight expression of doubt, which, however, soon 
passed off, with the remark, “Certainly — shaved off. 
Whiskers and everything else right. Come, my young 
friend, you’ll have to permit me to take you in charge,” 
laying his hand on Charley’s arm. 


298 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


“ No, I’ll be shot if I do. What the thunder do you 
mean ? ” said our hero, drawing off and taking a fighting 
attitude. - 

“Ah, it’s there, are you? All right.” He glanced 
around, and in an instant more Charley was seized from 
behind, and in a few moments after the very undesirable 
bracelets, that he had seen, but never felt before, were 
arranged upon him. And he began to think, with a pretty 
fair prospect, of that very disagreeable “ neck-tie,” to which 
his aunt had often alluded. 

“ Will you inform me now what is the meaning of this 
conduct?” asked Charley, choking down his wrath. 

“ You are arrested on a charge of murder, committed in 
the city of P -.” 

“ I commit murder ! It is not so ; I, who never killed a 
dog or cat in my life. Kill a man ? Indeed, you are all 
wrong.” 

“Oh, yes, I know. You are all right to talk so. I 
would if I were in your place. That’s the way you all 
talk. But, you see, we’re old hands at nabbing the likes 
of you, and we understand all about it.” 

“ Oh, the thunder ! This all comes of my dreadful 
temper, and swearing what I never was going to do! 
Who’s murdered? Hendricks?” asked Charley, slowly 
accompanying the officers. 

“Ha! ha! ha! Oh, you are a cute one! How do you 
know that name, if you are not the very fellow? That’s 
your name.” 

“ It’s a lie ! That’s the name of the only man I ever 
felt like killing. But what is the use of talking to you ? 
You won’t believe me. Well, well, it is all just as aunty 
said: I’d do something dreadful, and either go to the 
State prison or the gallows. Oh dear ! this looks very like 
the right road there. Oh, if I had listened to her advice, 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


299 


I should not have gone and done it ! Yes, if I had stayed 
at home, and minded my business, no one could have 
called me a murderer.” 

Poor Charley went on bemoaning his fate, while the 
officers concluded he was not such a “ cute one,” in truth, 
rather a “green one,” to expose himself, as they thought 
he was doing then. 

He was held in custody, arrested for murder, as James 

Hendricks of P , and kept until the sailing of the next 

steamer, when he was put on board, and returned to New 
' - York, thence to his native city. 

Early the next morning after his arrival there, he was 
permitted to send for a lawyer. Of course he was par- 
ticular to desire one to whom he was well known. So 
when that gentleman arrived, to his great surprise, instead 
of seeing the guilty man, James Hendricks, he beheld one 

of the most respectable and worthy young men of P , 

and one well known to himself. Immediately he made 
known the mistake, and obtained Charley’s release, still 
chaffing sorely in his mind from the mortification, dis- 
appointment, and general bad treatment he had received, 
and on the wrists from his disagreeable bracelets. Charley 
reached home again. Joyfully he was received by aunt 
Mary and Flory. 

Not until he reached P , and in his interview with 

the lawyer, did he learn what murder had been com- 
mitted. On the very night of his hasty departure, the 
house of one of the wealthiest men of the city had been 
entered with the purpose of robbing, which, however, was 
discovered by the owner, who, in attempting to secure the 
parties, or one of them, was murdered. A hat was 
dropped, in which was found the name of the murderer. 
The young ladies were horrified when the next morning’s 
papers announced the “ dear, delightful Mr. Hendricks ” 
the robber and murderer! 


300 


AN UNWELCOME TRIP. 


A large reward was offered, and officers started to try 
and capture the guilty man. In New York they learned 
that a man answering the given description had sailed on 
the steamer “ Ocean Queen,” for Liverpool. And so the 
worthy officers of the law, in their haste and diligence to 
secure and get in custody the criminal, and into their 
pockets the reward, had, in chasing and catching the 
wrong man, entirely lost all clue or trace of the right 
one. 

But Charley had received a severe lesson, after which 
aunt Mary had to make no further allusion to certain dis- 
agreeable places of destination or “ uncomfortable ties.” 
However, as the severest trial to his temper was removed, 
and never crossed his path again, it was not very hard for 
Charley to be cooler and more considerate. 

When his next visit to Europe was made, it was not 
hasty or unexpected, and with Flory, on their wedding 
tour. His return was of his own free will. The tie which 
holds him now is around his heart, and aunt Mary has no 
fear of any less agreeable. And Flory wears the bracelets, 
which were a wedding present from aunt Mary, and are 
rather more delicate and becoming, although not quite so 
attractive, as those once worn by her husband. 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN 



HAT a confusion! Why are you all so busy? 


’ * What’s going on?” exclaimed Roger Manning, 
who, having pulled the bell-cord just five times, succeeded 
at last in getting up one of the half-dozen servants in the 


house. 


“Nothing much, sir. Only the women folks were 
quarrelling about who should stay home and cook the 
dinner to-morrow. Of course all three of them want to go 
to church. Not so much to church, may be, as to parade 
their fine clothes, we think,” answered the dining-room 
servant. 

“ Church ? To-morrow will not be Sunday.” 

“ No, sir, Thanksgiving ! ” answered the man ; saying to 
himself, “ You must have come from some mighty wicked 
place not to remember that day.” 

“ Oh, I’d forgotten. I want my boots polished. Hurry 
the boy up with them ! ” 

“Thanksgiving! What a fuss mother used to make 
getting ready for it! And what jolly times Ned and I 
used to have picking the raisins, putting into our pockets 
about as many as in the pan. How well I remember the 
time I called the boys in to treat them to cider, nuts and 
apples, after I supposed father had gone to bed ; and when 
he came and caught us, how we all scampered but Ned. 
He stood ground, and took the whole blame from me, dear 


( 301 ) 


302 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 


old fellow ! How lie loved me ! What ! Have I lost my 
senses ? Confound him ! How could I forget ? I hate 
him ! Somehow that word Thanksgiving turned my mind 
a little.” 

Roger Manning proceeded to make his toilet. But that 
word, Thanksgiving, was sounding continually in his ears, 
and rhyming with another, more unwelcome — “ Forgiving.” 
Presently the tiny little alabaster clock caught the sound 
and continued it. 

“I wonder where he is? Happy, of course, with her; 
while I am alone in the world, without kindred — all gone 
but him. Better that he should be with them, as far as I 
am concerned. If he had passed away before he dealt me 
that dreadful blow, I should have treasured memories of 
our boyhood’s days. But now — ” 

Louder ticked the little clock — “Forgiving, Thanks- 
giving.” 

“ Oh ! I must get out of here. That ticking will craze 
me. I am growing as nervous as a woman.” 

Just then there was a knock on the door, and in answer 
to the call, “ Come in ! ” the servant entered again with the 
morning’s mail. Roger Manning, opening one letter after 
another, tossed them aside, and arose, saying : 

“These letters, with their tidings, would make many 
men feel like rendering great thanks to-morrow. But what 
care I for gold ? Gold does not bring happiness.” 

Ten years before, Roger Manning and his brother both 
loved the same girl. Ned was the favored one. When Roger 
told his love, Agnes answered : 

“I am your brother’s promised wife. But, • Roger/ let 
me be your sister,” putting her hand on his arm. 

“Never!” he cried, throwing off the little hand, and 
rushing from the room, to encounter his brother in the 
hall. 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 


303 


“ Curse you,” he said, with a fearful scowl. 

“ Roger, dear old fellow, stop. God knows I never 
dreamed of this until it was too late. Oh, believe, I never 
would have entered such a contest with you, my brother. 
If only my own happiness were concerned — ” 

He was stopped by Roger’s pushing him fiercely aside. 
A moment after, the door closed on his retreating form. 
Since that day they had never met. 

Roger went to Australia, where gold came to him from 
every side. A few months previous, a yearning seized him 
to visit again the home of his youth. Three days before 
Thanksgiving he arrived, and obtained apartments in one 
of the best houses in town. Standing on the marble steps, 
drawing on his gloves prior to going out, his attention was 
attracted by two little children, a boy and girl, who seemed 
hunting for something. 

“ Oh, we’ll never find it; never no more,” cried the little 
girl, in a voice trembling with tears. 

“ Brown, call those children and see what is the trouble,” 
Mr. Manning said to the servant, who was standing in the 
door. 

Brown did his bidding, and when the little ones came up 
to the steps, Roger asked : 

“ What is it, little ones ? ” 

“ We have lost our money, and now papa can’t have the 
orange. Oh, dear ! we’ll never find it no more ! ” the little 
girl sobbed out. 

“ We’ll look some more, and if we don’t find that, we’ll 
find something else. Mamma says that when she’s hunt- 
ing, don’t you know ? ” said the boy, with a confident air. 

Roger Manning smiled. It was a smile of more warmth 
than had visited his face for many years. A happy 
thought must have entered his mind, to make him look so 
pleasant. 


304 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 


“ How much money had you?” he asked. 

“ Oh ! ever so much ! Harry sold his papers, a pound 
of them, and dot five cents ! ” the little girl answered. Her 
blue eyes filled with tears as she looked up into the gentle- 
man’s face. 

“ That is a tremendous loss — a big loss, I mean,” he said, 
seeing that the little ones did not quite understand the first 
exclamation. 

“That’s so! But ’deed I’ll find it, or another, some 
way, before I stop. Papa’s got to have that orange,” 
Harry said, with a decided nod of his manly little head. 

“ Brown, divert their attention a moment,” Mr. Manning 
said. 

And as the little ones were listening to Brown’s advice 
on the subject of the lost five cents, Mr. Manning, tossing 
in the gutter four or five pieces of money such as they had 
lost, and one, folded in a note, worth twenty times as 
much, hurried on down the street. Before he was out of 
hearing, a joyous shout reached his ears. He knew the 
little hearts were comforted, and made merry too, while 
his own was filled with a feeling new and strange to him. 
A spirit of peace seemed stealing over him. 

Entering a fruit store, he purchased some oranges, 
grapes, apples, and pears, ordered them sent to his room, 
and soon after returned; and summoning Brown, he 
asked : 

“ Whose are those children I saw ? ” 

“ I don’t know their names, sir. But their parents have 
rooms in the lodging-house across the way there. Their 
father is very sick, they said. It would have done your 
heart good to have seen them dance and shout over the 
fortune they had found,” said Brown. 

“ They are poor then, perhaps ? ” Mr. Manning said. 

“ I think so, sir ; for I heard Harry say, 1 Let’s buy a 
chicken for papa.’ ” 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 305 

The hall bell sounded then. Brown, going to answer it, 
soon returned with the basket of fruit. 

“ Can you spare a few moments to step over and take 
this fruit? Just say it is for Harry and his little sister. 
You need not say who sent it.” 

“All right, sir,” Brown answered, and left with the chil- 
dren’s present. 

“ It is strange how well one feels after doing an act of 
kindness. That little girl’s blue eyes carry me back to my 
boy days. How much she reminded me, when she looked 
so pitifully up into my face, of Gertie, when I used to tease 
her! She would say, ‘Do, Koger, be a good boy.’ How 
she loved us, Ned and me ! If she was living, I should be 
a better, happier man. She would make me forgiving ” — 
“ forgiving,” the clock ticked loud. “ I wish that clock 
was out of the room,” he said. 

“ The children are wild with delight, sir. Harry says 
he is coming over in the morning to thank you,” Brown 
said, putting his head a moment in the door. 

Frequently that afternoon smiles played over Roger 
Manning’s face. He was thinking of the pleasant little 
surprise he had given the children twice that day. 

Thinking of them brought remembrances of the merry 
tricks of his boyhood — of Ned, his brother ; and the face 
which was cold and stem in the morning, grew sad but 
gentle then. 

The church bells were ringing the next day, when Roger 
Manning stood at the door wondering what he should do 
with himself— -whether to yield to the bells’ summons or 
stroll about the town. 

While thus deliberating, he saw Harry and his little 
sister coming, running across the street. 

When almost over, Harry threw up his arms, and, with 
a merry shout, made a spring, intending to land on the 


306 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 


pavement, missed it, and fell heavily against the curb- 
stone. 

Roger Manning hastened up, gently lifting the little 
fellow, who moaned piteously, and cried : 

“Take me to mamma! Please take me to mamma! 
My leg is broken ! ” 

“ No, no ; not so bad as that, my little man. But I will 
take you to mamma,” said Mr. Manning, bearing little 
Harry carefully across the street. 

“ Run ahead, little sister, and show me the way,” Roger 
said. And following the little one up two flights of steps, 
he knocked on the door at which she paused. 

“ Come in,” said a feeble voice. 

The instant Harry was carried in, he cried out : 

“ Oh, mamma, my leg is broken ! Come, come ! ” 

Quickly from an inner room she came. Years had 
dimmed the brightness of her beauty. But Roger Man- 
ning could never fail to recognize the woman he had 
loved. 

Terrified by her child’s cry and his pale face, the 
mother heeded not the one who held him, until from the 
sofa bed there came a cry : 

“ Roger ! brother ! dear old fellow ! Thank God I have 
you with us again ! Come, come ! I cannot get to you ! ” 

“ No, no — I did not know to whom I was coming,” said 
Roger. But his voice trembled. He placed the little suf- 
ferer in his mother’s arms, and turned as if to go, when 
Harry caught hold of his hand, and cried : 

“ No, don’t go ! Please — please stay and lift me over to 
papa. I’m too heavy for mamma.” 

Roger turned again, raised him up, and as he placed 
him on the sofa, his hand was caught by his brother’s and 
held tightly, while he pleaded : 

“ Roger, forgive ! forgive ! If accident has given you 


A THANKSGIVING STORY. 307 

back to ns, leave us not again in anger. Look at me, old 
fellow, and make friends ? ” 

How like the Ned of boyhood his voice sounded! 
Roger turned. Their eyes met an instant. They read 
each other’s yearning heart; the past was forgiven, and the 
brothers clasped in a loving embrace once more. 

Harry almost forgot his suffering — which proved only 
a sprained ankle — in the joy of having found, and held in 
possession, the uncle he had often heard his father tell 
about. He would hardly let him go away to bring back 
lots of nice things for their Thanksgiving dinner, as Roger 
told him. 

Never had either Roger, Ned, or Agnes known a Thanks- 
giving of such real happiness. And when, at dinner, 
Roger called Agnes “ sister,” she and her husband knew 
how full and perfect was Roger’s forgiveness and reconcili- 
ation. Roger grew very happy in giving happiness and 
comfort to his brother and the loved ones with him. Ned 
was soon restored to health. 

In a year after that blessed Thanksgiving day, there 
•was not even a shadow of regret in Roger’s heart, for he 
had won the love of Agnes’ sister, who was so much like 
his love of ten years before, that at times he felt as if the 
past must surely be a dream. 

Since that day Thanksgiving has been celebrated by 
some act of love and kindness; some hearts have been 
found to make happy, by those eager to prove their earnest 
and sincere thanks to Him who so bountifully had blessed 
them. 


19 


BORROWED JEWELS. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^ YTTHAT a handsome girl! Who is she?” asked 
VV Fred Mansfield of a friend who stood talking 
with him in the hall, as a really very fine-looking young 
girl, magnificently attired in full evening dress, swept by 
them and entered one of the parlors in a first-class hotel 
in Washington. 

“ I do not know. A new arrival, probably, by the 
Southern boat. She looks like the maidens of the 1 sunny 
clime.’ ” 

“Magnificent!” exclaimed Fred, after having sought 
the parlor and obtained a better view of the new beauty. 

“Magnificent? Yes, indeed! Worth at least fifty 
thousand, I guess. There is no mistaking them. They 
are of the first water.” 

“ What are you talking about now ? ” asked Fred. 

“ Why, what you were, of course — her diamonds ! ” an- 
swered his friend, with a sly twinkle in his eye. 

“ Nonsense ! I am really very much pleased with — ” 

“ Yes, I know you are ; but what is to become of Miss 
Charlton? You have been her most devoted for four or 
five weeks.” 

“ Oh — ah — well, yes. That is, you are mistaken in your 
surmises. Miss Charlton is a very lovely girl. And I 
esteem and admire her very much ; but nothing more, I 
assure you.” 

( 308 ) 


BORROWED JEWELS. 


309 


A few hours after Fred Mansfield was seated beside the 
Southern belle, perfectly charmed, he seemed, by her 
merry tones, and oblivious to all and everything else. 
And little Grace Charlton sat apart, in a distant corner of 
the room, apparently reading, but really watching with a 
jealous eye the man who had sought her side every even- 
ing for weeks, and then was so charmed by a new face as 
not even to see hers. 

Poor little Grace ! She was just thinking that perhaps 
Fred Mansfield had only been amusing himself with her, 
when a pleasant voice asked : 

“Alone, Grace? I should have been with you two 
hours ago, but I thought I should find you, as I always 
do nowadays, engaged with Mr. Mansfield. Where is he 
this evening ? ” , 

Grace directed his glance to Fred’s whereabouts, and 
Charlie Berrian’s eye brightened, and he said : 

“ Get your wrappings, Grade, and let us take a walk. 
It is a beautiful night, and only a little after nine o’clock. 
There are lots of persons on the avenue.” 

Grace assented. She was glad to get away from that 
scene, and soon after was with Charlie, off for their walk — 
the first for a long time — and Charlie began to grow a little 
hopeful again, and said : 

“ Let him go, Grace ! Indeed, he is not worthy of you. 
I know just how it is — he has dazzled you by his sparkling 
wit and fancy ways, that’s all. I know you do not really 
care for him. But I’ve felt very sad, I’ll own, these last 
few weeks, during which time you have hardly looked at 
me. I know well enough, Grace, I am not half good 
enough for you ; but you know one thing, there is not an- 
other woman in the world could keep me from your side, 
if you would let me be with you. How long I’ve loved 
you, and how truly, you know. Yet you will never 


310 


BORROWED JEWELS. 


reward me by one word, to give me hope. You don’t dis- 
like me, Gracie ? ” 

“ No, no, Charlie, I esteem and respect you — more than 
any one I know, and — well, I do like you ; but not as 
you wish. You seem more like my brother,” answered 
Gracie. 

“ Thank you, Grace, for this much ! I shall hope on, 
and love on too. I cannot help it.” 

Fred Mansfield’s attentions grew more and more mani- 
fest. Rumor said Miss Leroy was the only child, and her 
mother immensely wealthy. The beautiful Lucille re- 
ceived Fred’s devotion with much favor, and her mother 
treated him with a kindness that was very encouraging. 
In three weeks from the night Miss Leroy first met her 
lover they were engaged, and from a letter of Fred’s to 
his father we can learn just how matters stood : 

“ Dear Father : — I have not yet succeeded in getting 
your claims through ; yet I am still hopeful of final suc- 
cess. But even if we should fail this session, your money 
nor my time will have been lost. I have been wonderfully 
fortunate in another way. 

“ To-morrow I shall be married to one of the wealthiest 
girls in the Southern States. Tell Nettie she must prepare 
to receive her new sister in a style worthy of her position. 
She had better get another servant — one to attend solely 
on my wife, who of course has always had a maid. Some 
weeks ago I wrote Nettie of a young lady that I was very 
much pleased with, but she is not the one I shall marry. 
Both are prizes, but I have secured the greater one. Her 
diamonds are a fortune of themselves. I shall be home as 
soon as I have an understanding with my respected 
mother-in-law — who, by-the-by, I have decided not to 
consult with on this subject until I have placed it out of 
her power to reject my proposals. Lucille fears her 
mother would not consent to so speedy a union — thus the 
clandestine marriage. Hoping to see you soon, I remain 
dutifully and affectionately yours, F. Mansfield.” 


BORROWED JEWELS. 


311 


Before this letter had reached its destination its author 
had eloped with and married the Southern beauty. When 
this news reached Grace Charlton, she was neither disap- 
pointed, nor at all surprised ; for the very morning of the 
elopement, from his own lips, Grace learned how unworthy 
he was of any true woman’s love. 

She stood in the recess of a deeply curtained window, 
when no one else was in the parlor. It was quite early. 
She heard approaching footsteps, and in a few seconds 
more Fred Mansfield came in, with a gentleman, and 
taking from his pocket-book a small paper, handed it to 
his companion, saying : 

“There, that is w T hat I wanted to show you. You will 
stand by me, I hope — that is, be present at the ceremony?” 

“ So far gone ? Really, I did not think this, Fred. 
Well, as you have, I see, by the paper, a license to take 
the young lady, I suppose, of course, you obtained her 
mamma’s permission first ? ” 

“Not a bit of it ! ” answered Fred, and proceeded to 
explain his plans. 

“Ah ! Fred, take care you do not regret this hasty step 
when it is too late. I don’t believe you can love her so 
soon after — well, after having known and spent so many 
hours with such a girl as Miss Charlton. But I see she 
seems very well consoled for your desertion. I guess she 
was only amusing herself with you. Young Berrian is a 
lucky fellow. She is truly a prize.” 

“ I know that. But — well, I will tell you. I really did 
think very strongly of trying to win Miss Charlton ; but 
this Southern beauty caused me to change my mind. She 
se^ms very fond of me. And you surely cannot blame a 
man for doing the best he can in the world, and getting the 
most he can for his heart, hand and name? ” 

Grace could not see the look of contempt which was on 


312 


BORROWED JEWELS. 

# 

the face of Fred Mansfield’s companion, as he turned and 
walked from the room. 

No feeling but disgust then filled her heart for the man 
whom, only a few weeks before, she had thought so nearly 
perfect. 

Yes, they were married ; and Lucille, apparently very 
uneasy concerning her mother’s reception of her after her 
undutiful conduct, pleaded with Fred that they should 
go off to his home for a while, until her parent would have 
time to get somewhat over the shock. She feared to see 
her in her terrible anger, she said. 

But Fred was then determined to act honestly and 
straightforward, and have the matter settled at once — a 
settlement of so many thousands of dollars he meant, and 
expected. 

Lucille seemed dreadfully agitated and anxious when 
Fred was immovable in his determination, and, despite all 
her pleadings, returned to the hotel, and sought the 
presence of his mother-in-law. 

Mrs. Leroy sat smiling and pleasant in her private 
parlor when Fred came in with Lucille, who, in obedience 
to his words : 

“Go, Lucille, and win forgiveness for jmurself and one 
whose every thought and aim in life shall be to be worthy 
of your love and your mother’s confidence.” 

She sank at Mrs. Leroy’s feet. 

“ Get up, Lucille ! None of this sentimental nonsense ! 
Sit down, Mr. Mansfield ! ” said that lady, in a voice calm, 
and with not the least possible sign of the much-feared 
anger. 

“ Oh, madam ! how can I thank you for this unhoped- 
for kindness ? ” 

There was a comical little smile playing about Mrs. 
Leroy’s lips, and she said : 


BORROWED JEWELS. 


313 


“ Indeed I must thank you. You have relieved me of a 
very arduous task. Lucille has given me a great deal of 
anxiety, she is so wayward ; and indeed, since the time 
she was first committed to my care, I have never known a 
moment’s real peace. She has done very much better 
than I dared hope. Of course, Mr. Mansfield, she has told 
you that she is not my daughter.” 

“ Madam ! ” exclaimed Fred, “ not your daughter ! What 
am I to understand by this ? ” 

“ I thought it most likely you had been mistaken, Mr. 
Mansfield. Lucille is the orphan of a distant cousin of 
my late husband, who took charge of her when she was 
only about seven years old. She has been with us ever 
since. My son looks on her as a sister almost; and 
although no provision was made for her, as Colonel Leroy 
made no will, Henry has had her finely educated, and 
will, most likely, send her a handsome wedding present. 
I am not rich, as you may have thought. Of course I do 
not tell you this because I think it can affect you in any 
way ; simply, as being now one of our family, you should 
know how matters stand,” replied Mrs. Leroy. 

Fred Mansfield knew then how completely he had been 
deceived by appearances and hotel gossip. He knew why 
Lucille had feared the meeting with Mrs. Leroy. Yes, all 
was plain enough then. But it was done, and he would 
make the best of it. And his thoughts reverting to the 
diamonds — about the real worth of them there could be no 
mistake — he felt comforted, and trying to hide his chagrin, 
said : 

“Thank you, Mrs. Leroy, for your candor and confi- 
dence. Lucille, my dear, as your— as Mrs. Leroy has 
given you her forgiveness, there is no immediate haste 
about our leaving Washington. I would like to have you 
attend the levee this evening.” 


314 


BORROWED JEWELS. 


Oh ! but when the time for the reception came, Fred’s 
comforting thought was dashed away forever. 

“ Put on your diamonds, Lucille. Surely this is a fit- 
ting time to wear them ! ” 

The young bride put forth one little excuse and then 
another, until Fred grew anxious, and said : 

“ Where are your diamonds ? ” 

“They are not mine, Fred. They belong to Harry 
Leroy’s wife. She is in mourning, and loaned them to 
me. Mamma keeps them.” 

Gone, gone — the last hope! And he, to use his own 
words, “ was sold.” Not for a high price, either, but very 
cheap. Yes, the fortune-hunter had been so blinded by the 
brilliancy of borrowed jewels, that he had let the girl who 
was a jewel herself, and had jewels of her own, slip from 
his hand, to be won by another and a worthier man. 

Fred’s sister handed him, a few months after, a notice 
of Grace Charlton’s marriage. After a description of the 
reception, it stated that the bride had recently come into 
possession of a very large legacy, which, added to her 
previous very comfortable possessions, made her one of 
the wealthiest ladies in the State. 

“ Did you not make a mistake, Fred ? ” asked Nettie, 
archly. 

Yes, yes, we will answer for him — a common mistake, 
which results in bitter regrets most frequently to those 
who, making merchandise of the heart, barter its best and 
purest emotions for worldly goods and gain. 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 


“ My son, these maxims make a rule, 
And lump them aye the gither: 


The rigid righteous is a fule, 

The rigid wise anither!”— Robert Burns, 



EARILY she ascended the stairs, entered the room, 


V t and sank almost exhausted into her rocking-chair — 
the little widow, Mildred McGregor, so young in years, but 
oh ! so old in care and sorrow ! Trials numberless were 
hers, as alone she had to battle with the world, and gain a 
living for her little ones. Two they were : a merry, bright- 
eyed girl of six years, so full of life and joyous spirit, 
that she was the sunshine on the mother’s path of dreari- 
ness; the other a boy, two years older, who from his 
infancy had been a little sufferer, and great fears filled the 
mother’s heart lest he might go through life a cripple. It 
was by ceaseless toiling and continual self-denial that 
Mildred could obtain the necessaries to sustain that 
feeble little body, with his delicate appetite. Archie 
must have food nutritious and tempting, fruits and wine ; 
while Birdie and mamma were satisfied with a scant 
supply of the meanest necessaries of life. After her accus- 
tomed work of teaching a little school, Mildred had been 
about, that day, to obtain some sewing to do at night. 
Sorely in need of money, she must turn every hour to some 
account ; even those that should have been given to sleep 


( 315 ) 


316 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 


found her, weary and worn, plying her needle. Three 
months in arrears with her rent, and with scarce a hope 
that her landlord would longer have mercy, poor Mildred 
w r as more than usually depressed that afternoon. 

She was won for a while from her gloomy thoughts by 
loving arms fondly caressing her, rosy lips pressed to hers, 
and a sweet, lisping tongue chirping forth words of love 
and welcome. Yes, for a while she must forget her 
sorrows, and listen to her little Birdie. Another great 
comfort Mildred possessed: a faithful domestic, friend, 
and companion, all combined, whose only interest was 
with her mistress and her children. While Mandy 
was placing on the table their frugal meal, Mildred 
asked : 

“ How has Archie been to-day, Mandy ? ” 

“ About as usual. The doctor has been here, and says 
we can do no more just now but bathe his limb when- 
ever it pains him so badly. I have used the last of the 
liquor.” 

“Well, take the book and go for a little more. Just a 
little, tell Mrs. Grady. And I do hope to be able to pay 
her before long. Tell her so, Mandy.” 

“ I did tell her so the last time, and she said , 1 Never 
mind; whenever you can spare it.’ The agent has been 
here. I thought if he could only see you, he might wait a 
while longer ; so I invited him to stop, and told him you 
would be in soon. So he did. I sent Birdie in ; and 
after I had bathed Archie’s limb and made him comfort- 
able, I took him in, thinking surely his heart would then 
be softened. He waited over a half hour, looking over the 
books on the table. I was doing my work in the next 
room, when I heard him jump up, and say, ‘ That is the 
reason she has no money to pay her debts,’ and was going 
out, when I met him in the passage. 1 Tell your mistress 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 317 

I shall expect the rent, or must make it the best I can ; 
and she must find another house or rooms.’ ” 

“Well, well! I expected it would come. But what 
could he have meant by ‘that is the reason I had no 
money ? ’ I have been fated not to see that man. I wish I 
knew who the property belonged to ; I think I would go 
right to him, and plead for a little mercy.” 

William Revere, the owner of Mildred’s little home, and 
many others, was rich, very rich, and with no one to 
share his hoards of gold and silver. 

He was a bachelor, and not a very old one either. 
Years before he had loved, as men sometimes do, with a 
love that is forever. 

He was fifteen when his little lady-love was born, and 
daily, for years, did he watch the beautiful child growing 
more lovely. Every thought of the future was filled with 
plans for her happiness. For her he would gain wealth. 
Their parents were dear friends, living in the same house. 
Merrily they would laugh over the youth’s devotion to 
the little maid. And she loved no one better than Willie, 
then. But time wore on, and the little one was a beau- 
tiful maiden, with many admirers. Willie, grave, earnest 
Willie — so plain-looking — stood a poor comparison with 
the gay young gallants who sought her love ; and he never 
told her his. Hid she not know it ? Had not the years 
of devotion proved how true it was ? He would wait, and 
let her tire a little of the gay ones, he thought. 

And so it was while Willie was waiting, the girl, scarcely 
more than a child, eloped and married. He had never 
seen her since; but his love had never died, nor been 
given to another. 

He sat alone in his elegant library when the agent, who 
had just left Mildred’s home, entered. 

“ Well, Mason, what is it? You look annoyed.” 


318 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 


“I am, sir. You remember the tenant of 96, 

street. She has been promising to pay every week, until 
now three months have passed, and she is that much in 
arrears. I have waited, believing her a worthy woman, 
very poor, with two children, and would pay when she 
got it. But to-day I have been fully convinced she never 
will, and does not try to ! ” 

“Who is she? A widow, you say, with two chil- 
dren. These are hard times, I know, Mason. I do not 
wish to be hard on a worthy person, understand,” said 
William Revere. 

“ Worthy ! But I am convinced she is not, sir. Her 
name is Magruder ; I have never seen her ; but the truth 
is, sir, whiskey is the reason she cannot pay her rent. The 
money that should be devoted to that, and, yes, to bread 
for her children, is spent in whiskey ! ” said Mason, who 
was a strong advocate of the temperance cause, and had a 
perfect horror of alcohol ; and when used by a woman, it 
filled his head and heart too with wrath, and in that 
humor he came to his employer. 

“You may be mistaken, Mason. You say you have 
never seen her.” 

“ Never, sir, and do not want to. But I’m not mistaken. 
I’ll tell you. I have just left there. I called, found her 
out, went in, and sat down to wait for her. I amused my- 
self looking over a few books on the table. In a few 
moments there came in a very pretty, bright-looking little 
girl ; but I fancied I smelt the fume of whiske}* - about her. 
A little while longer, and then came a boy, pale and sick- 
looking ; then I could not think it fancy. I knew he had 
been using whiskey freely — Ugh — and bad whiskey too ! 
Just then my eye fell on a ‘pass-book;’ inadvertently I 
opened it — it was not just the thing, I knew, to do — but I 
glanced in, and believe me, sir, whiskey came much 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 319 

oftener than bread. Now there is no mistaking that , if we 
can believe our eyes, yes, and nose too ! It is not mercy 
to give her any more time. The city authorities had better 
take the children and care for them, and let her go to the 
workhouse! I had intended to order an execution, or 
have her things set out; but I thought I would speak to 
you first.” 

“ Well, if it is so, as you say, proceed ; that is, order her 
out, but do not take her things. You say you have never 
seen her ? ” 

“ No, sir, I have not. Archer rented the house to her 
when I was away in the summer.” 

Many times, during the next few days, William Revere 
thought of the woman that Mason had decided to turn 
out. It was cold weather, and she was a widow with 
children, no matter how unworthy of sympathy. William 
Revere could not help feeling annoyed, and a little un- 
easy ; at length he determined to go and see for himself. 
There was no longer time for delay, for it was then the 
very day that she would have to leave. 

Arriving at his destination, William Revere knocked. 
The door was opened by the little Birdie. 

“ Does Mrs. Magruder live here ? ” he asked, glancing 
down on the pretty child, while his thoughts flew softly 
back to the time when just such a little girl was so dear 
to him. Still looking at her, he noticed not the approach 
of her mother. 

u Mrs. Magruder — you mean Me — ” 

He raised his eyes quickly as the sweet tones fell on his 
ear, but suddenly she stopped, and with a cry of surprise 
put forth both hands to greet him. 

“ Oh, Mildred! Dear little Milly ! Where have you 
been all these years ? ” William Revere exclaimed. 

Gently withdrawing the hands he still clasped, and 


320 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 


giving him a seat, she told him of her sorrows. With the 
little Birdie in his arms, he listened to his long lost love, 
and forgot all about the poor widow and her children for 
whom he had come in search ; for great joy filled William 
Revere’s heart, and hope was whispering sweet tidings of 
coming happiness for him at last. Now he might win 
her ! At length bethinking himself, he said : 

“ I must have mistaken the number. In some one of 
these houses lives a poor, miserable woman, very much 
given to drinking. My agent has become rather disgusted 
with her, and ordered her out. The affair has worried me 
somewhat, so I came round to look into the case my- 
self.” 

“ You were asking for Mrs. Magruder. That is what 
these people call me. I am the person you are in 
search of ! ” 

11 You! But he said that that woman was spending all 
her money in whiskey ! There must be another woman 
surely, that he has mistaken ! ” 

“ No, no, ’tis I. But oh ! what can he mean by such a 
charge ? ” said Mildred, her face crimsoned with mortifica- 
tion at the thought. 

Just then Archie came in, his pale little face bearing 
the traces of much suffering. After William Revere had 
spoken to him, the little fellow moved to his mother’s 
side and whispered : 

“Mamma, please let Mandy have the pass-book; my 
leg hurts me so, I want it bathed.” 

William Revere caught the words, low as they were, and 
he caught the pass-book too, and quickly, for the child’s 
request had brought to his mind the agent’s words. With 
surprise Mildred gazed as William opened the book, looked 
an instant on its record, and then pointed to the number- 
less times whiskey was written there. 


JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 


321 


All was explained fully then ; and more that little book 
told. William Revere’s eyes grew dim as he learned 
from that the story of her great poverty and continual 
self-denial ; but there should be no more of that for Mil- 
dred and her little ones. 

William laughed merrily over Mason’s blunder, and 
Mildred could not repress her smiles at the mistake 
which, although a very sad one, had a very joyous ending. 

A knock on the door aroused the merry group ; and as 
Mandy opened it, Mason was about to enter, when, start- 
ing back in surprise, he said : 

“ You here, Mr. Revere ! I was seeking Mrs. Magruder. 
Is she not in ? ” 

An expression of admiration was on his face as his eyes 
rested on Mildred. And well there might, for she was 
still very beautiful. 

“ Walk in, Mason,” answered William Revere. “ Here 
is the lady you are looking for, Mrs. Magruder.” 

“ That Mrs. Magruder ! ” exclaimed Mason, in the most 
intense surprise, and he gazed in bewilderment from Mil- 
dred to Mr. Revere. 

In a manner of deep respect he approached Mildred and 
said : 

“Madam, I have been dreadfully mistaken somehow. 
I have only to see you to know that.” 

Both Mildred and William Revere pitied his great em- 
barrassment, and explained to him his mistake. 

“ Was it not a rather natural conclusion? ” he asked, in 
a deprecating manner. 

“A very hasty one, I should say, Mason. But we will 
not find much fault with you for this conclusion, for it has 
proved a very happy one, and perfectly satisfactory to all 
parties, I hope. I know it is to me.” 

But Mason could not feel just so, or enjoy at all what 


322 JUDGED BY APPEARANCES. 

seemed to others a good joke : first, because the laugh was 
all on, not a bit from him ; the next, when he looked on 
the beautiful young widow, he thought what might possi- 
bly have happened in favor of himself, if he had not been 
quite so hasty. For he too was a bachelor, and a much 
older one than his employer. Afterward, when excusing 
himself, he asked : 

“ What can a man believe, if not his own eyes ? ” 

I do not know what his friends answered him, but I 
would advise, and plead, that nothing evil will be believed 
until it is fully proved, and all believed good until clearly 
disproved. This will be a safer rule to govern our 
thoughts, words, and deeds. 

That very day William Revere carried to his home of 
luxury his wife Mildred — his at last ! — with her children 
and the faithful Mandy. 

“ I tell you, Mason,” said William Revere, after he had 
presented him to Mrs. Revere, “ that conclusion of yours, 
although it might not meet the approval of the majority, 
has mine, with many thanks ; for it is the beginning of 
my life of real happiness, which I have never known until 
now.” 


POSITIVE PROOF 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

" See, his audacious face he turns to hers, 

Simpering with her at some foolish jest; 

And she enjoys it too ! Oh, this is vile ! ” 

E VIE WILLARD sat pouting, and for a good cause, 
she thought. All the evening she had been waiting 
and watching for the coming of Roy St. Clair, and when 
the little alabaster time-piece on the mantel pointed to ten 
o’clock, she knew she could hope no longer ; he would not 
come. 

“ What has detained him ? ” often she murmured. “ If 
I had not felt sure of his coming, I would have gone to 
the opera with Fred. Roy had better give a very good 
excuse for this, or I shall not get over it very soon. I’ll 
not let Fred know how I’ve been disappointed, or he will 
tease me dreadfully.” 

Poor little Evie did not feel much better, the next 
morning, when her brother Fred saluted her. 

“ You must have had a rather lonely time last night, 
Evie.” 

“ Why so ? ” Evie asked. 

“Why? Because a certain young gentleman, that I 
think you expected, spent his evening somewhere else, 
and in the company of as pretty a girl as I ever saw ! ” 
Evie’s face flushed unmistakably, although she tried 
hard to appear unconcerned, and replied : 

20 


( 323 ) 


324 


POSITIVE PROOF. 


“You saw him at the opera, I suppose. Likely he 
was with his sister; I know he is expecting her in town 
every day.” 

“ Yes, I saw him ; but I’ll pledge you my word that girl 
was not his sister. No, indeed ! Boys are not so devoted 
in their manner to their sisters. If I had not thought 
something of the kind in another quarter, nearer home, I 
should say he was in love with her. There now, Evie, 
don’t flush up so ! We young ones must flirt a little 
sometimes — that is, when we are invited ; and that young 
lady really seemed very fond of Roy. You can just scold 
him a little, and it will be all right after.” 

Evie maintained as calm an exterior as possible, and 
forced down a very small breakfast. She would not have 
eaten a mouthful, only she knew Fred was watching her, 
and anxious to get a chance for further teasing. 

Roy St. Clair’s family resided in an adjoining State. 
He was engaged in business in the city where Evie Willard 
lived. She had known him nearly a year. Within the 
last few months he had visited her very frequently, and 
although they were not actually engaged, there was a 
pretty good understanding between them. Evie had felt 
very sure Roy loved her, and she had not been very par- 
ticular in disguising her preference for him. 

That evening he presented himself to Evie, and said 
immediately : 

“ I was so provoked not to be with you last evening, 
and more so because I had not even time to write you a 
line explaining my absence. Mr. Blake came to me, just 
as I was leaving the store, and gave me a piece of informa- 
tion relative to our business that made it necessary for me 

to go to B . I had only just time to catch the train, 

and did not get back until very late.” 

Evie was prepared to treat him very coldly, but this 


POSITIVE PROOF. 325 

explanation surprised her quite out of her intention, and 
she said : 

“ Why, I heard you were at the opera ! Did you not 
return in time to drop in there for a little while ? ” 

Roy’s face turned very red, and looking at Evie rather 
sternly, he asked : 

“ Do you doubt me ? If I had returned in time for an 
hour anywhere, it would have been here.” 

Evie was forced to believe him, he looked so honest and 
truthful. 

After all, perhaps Fred was only teasing her. But how 
did he know Roy was not with her? Perhaps he had 
heard from one of the servants that there was no company 
in during the evening. 

Roy continued very devoted, and for many days Evie 
had not cause for disquietude. 

He had told her how much he loved her, and she 
promised, if her parents consented, she would become his. 
Mr. Willard, Evie’s father, was absent from the city. On 
his return, Roy was to ask for his permission to win Evie. 

One day, about two weeks after the evening of the com- 
mencement of our story, Evie was walking in the park 
with Fred, when he exclaimed : 

“ Look, Evie ! I declare there is Roy, with the girl I saw 
him with at the opera.” 

And so it was Roy, who came up and presented “ Miss 
Archer.” 

Evie was troubled and perplexed, and consequently not 
very cordial. So, after a few moments of constrained 
remarks, they separated. 

Roy came in the evening, and told Evie Miss Archer 
was an intimate friend of his sister’s, and had come to 
spend several weeks in the city. He wished so much Evie 
would go with him to call on her. 


326 


POSITIVE PROOF. 


But Evie declined, for a woman’s reason — “ she did not 
want to.” And Roy was a little hurt. 

Twice, during the next fortnight, she met Roy accom- 
panying Miss Archer ; and this, with Fred’s information, 
worried her very much ; she hardly knew what to think. 
Had Roy told her a falsehood? 

Fred went to call on Miss Archer, and was loud in his 
praises of her beauty and wit. 

One evening Evie told Roy she thought he was very 
attentive to his sister’s friend, indeed unnecessarily so, and 
was a little cross about it. 

Matters went on in this unaccountable manner, till Evie 
determined when Roy came to see her again she would 
make him decide between Miss Archer and herself. 

She told him so, and about his darting into a store 
that very morning, to avoid meeting her. 

“This morning, Evie? Surely you are mistaken. I 
am pretty certain I was not out with her. Now, yesterday 
morning I did meet her and walk a block or two ; but — ” 

Oh, that was too much ! Two mornings then ; and how 
many more ? So she interrupted him by saying : 

“It is useless, Roy, to deny it. I saw you. You 
deceived me once, and — ” 

“Evie! this to me? How can you? I will explain, 
although your distrust pains me very deeply.” 

“ No explanation at all, Roy ; only this — promise me 
you will keep away from her, and I will forgive the past,” 
said Evie. 

“ Let me tell you, Evie ? ” 

“No, no! You must choose between us!” said Evie, 
determined to bring him to decide. 

“All right, Evie. It shall be as you wish. You shall 
not be worried about her any more.” 

Several days more passed by, and Evie was beginning 


POSITIVE PROOF. 


327 


to feel quite easy again with regard to Roy’s devotion to 
her ; when, one afternoon, a young friend of hers came irn 
and after speaking to Evie, said : 

“ I met Roy St. Clair a few moments ago in the park. 
He was with a very beautiful girl. Say, Evie, come, let 
us go take a walk there? You will meet so many friends. 
There are more out this afternoon than I’ve seen for weeks.” 

Evie agreed. She would see for herself. And if she 
did, Roy St. Clair should be dismissed from her mind 
and heart, if it nearly killed her. In a short time Evie 
and her friend were walking in the park. It was growing 
quite late, and they had not seen Roy. At last, however, 
Evie saw Miss Archer, and sure enough by her side was 
Mr. St. Clair. 

They were quite near. Miss Archer bowed, and smiled 
— a triumphant smile, Evie thought — and he looked 
another way, as if he had not or did not see her. 

That evening, when he came, the servant said : 

“ Miss Willard was very much engaged, and could not 
see Mr. St. Clair.” 

Evie could not command her feelings sufficiently, so soon, 
to treat him as she wished. She must have time to school 
herself somewhat for the trying scene; so she sent that 
message. 

The next morning Fred came to her room before break- 
fast and said : 

“ Evie, look here. Whose picture is this ? ” 

It was a vignette, and marked, “ R. St. Clair. Taken 
May 15, 1869,” just three days before. And a very good 
likeness too. 

“ Where did you get it, Fred?” 

“ I hooked it from Miss Archer. She had six or eight, 
and I thought she would not miss one, for a few hours. 
I must take it back to-night. ” 


328 


POSITIVE PROOF. 


No longer a doubt was in Evie’s mind. Roy St. Clair 
was unworthy of even a sigh. She would see him, and 
let him see she could cast him off without a faltering of 
either heart or lips when she bid him go. 

He came so pleasantly forward, and put forth his hand 
to clasp hers, when again they met ; and she, coldly, calmly, 
cruelly, drew off and spoke the words which sent him forth. 

“Evie, I could never have doubted you thus. I go! 
You will not let me speak one word in defence. Time will 
prove the injustice you do me,” Roy said. 

“ Go, Roy St. Clair ! I never wish to see you again,” 
she said, as he left her side and home. 

Two days after, she received a note from him, saying : 

“ Will you not let me come and convince you of your 
injustice? Do, Evie? I know appearances are against 
me ; but that is all. If you will not let me come, I shall 
leave the city to-morrow, to be gone many months.” 

“ Go ! ” was the only answer Roy received. 

He was gone, she had heard from Fred ; and from the 
same source, a few hours after, she received tidings that 
almost crushed the life from out her heart. 

Roy St. Clair was dreadfully wounded, perhaps dying. 
The train in which he had gone was thrown from the 
track, many of the passengers killed and more wounded. 

The accident had taken place only about thirty miles 
from the city, and Roy would be brought home that after- 
noon. 

Oh ! how bitterly Evie repented her cruelty. Oh 1 if 
she had only let him come to her, then he would not have 
been on the train. She should never forgive herself. She 
felt as if she had caused perhaps his death. 

She must fly to his side and gain his forgiveness; tell 
him how dear he was to her. Yes, she would go. And, 
with Fred, she started, and soon reached Roy’s boarding- 


POSITIVE PROOF. 


329 


house, and learned he had arrived. She went into the par- 
lor, while Fred went up to Roy’s room to see how he was. 

She entered the parlor, and there met a sight that caused 
her to spring joyously forward for an instant, and exclaim : 

“ Thank Heaven, Roy, you are safe ! ” And then drew 
hack, cold and proud, when she thought again how she had 
been deceived. 

In the parlor on the sofa sat Miss Archer, and sitting by 
her side the object of all Evie’s trouble and uneasiness. 

The gentleman arose, and approaching her, said : 

“ I see, Miss Willard, you have fallen into the very com- 
mon mistake. My brother is very seriously hurt, but 
we hope not fatally. I have just left him. He is more 
comfortable.” 

All the truth flashed into her mind then; and how he had 
pleaded to be permitted to tell her how she was mistaken. 

Fred came after Evie to go up and see Roy, who had 
asked for her. 

Fred rubbed llis eyes, and looked with the most perfect 
amazement on the man that he had so often mistaken for 
Roy, who was Roy’s twin brother. 

“ Forgive ! forgive ! Roy ! ” Evie pleaded, as she sank 
beside his couch. 

“ You know now, darling, that I was not what you thought 
me ! ” Roy murmured, in a tone feeble and tremulous. 

Evie had received a severe lesson in hasty judgment ; and 
many hours, during the next few days, she had cause to fear 
that she had sent that true and loving heart to find death. 
He was very ill. And how she prayed for his life ! And 
at length they knew he would live. After he was well 
enough to talk, all was made very clear to Evie. 

Since Evie’s marriage, she is constantly preaching against 
judging by appearances, and condemning hastily on such 
proof. 


<- — ) 
¥ 

( J 


EFFIE FAIRLEIGH’S REWARD. 

BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

^ ^ TT is no use, mother, I would sooner stay home than 

J- wear that dress again. I did want to go to this 
party, and I wanted some kind of a pink dress — I could 
not have a silk, I know, but I could get a tarletan and 
have it just as pretty as I want, for ten dollars. Indeed it 
is too hard,” Effie said, almost crying. 

“ I am very, very sorry, dear, but you know I began this 
year with the determination of not going in^tebt f or a 
thing. I am just getting a little relieved now. Bear up, 
child ; next year we shall not have Willie’s collie-bills, 
and then you can have more pretty clotn£S;’’ , 'the mother 
said, soothingly. 

“Next year! Oh, mother! Next year I may not care 
for them. Don’t you know that Mrs. Arthur told us 
Willis Carleton would be home and the party was given 
for him? ” 

There was a bright flush on the pretty face that looked 
so entreatingly into her mother’s. 

“ How can I manage it ? No way that I can see.” 

“ Mamma — oh ! I know ! Please, mamma, Mr. Stew- 
art’s rent will be due in — let me see — yes, just eight days. 
Ask him to let you have half of it. Do ! ” 

Her voice was raised in the excitement of the moment, 
and Mrs. Fairleigh said : 

“ Hush, dear, he will hear you.” 

( 330 ) 


EFFIE FAIRLEIGH’S REWARD. 331 

11 Oh, no, he cannot. I heard him go out half an hour 
ago. Will you, mother? ” 

“ Indeed I cannot, dear. Mr. Stewart has always been 
so prompt — I might borrow it; but I hate so to do 
it. Well, we will see; but don’t make up your mind 
to it.” 

“ Oh, if some good fairy would only drop it down the 
chimney to me ! Oh, for only just ten dollars to make me 
the happiest girl in the world. I never thought before 
how much ten dollars could do. Nothing could make me 
so happy now as a new pink dress,” Eflie said. 

Then her thoughts flew to the one she wanted to wear 
that dress to please. 

Two years before — when Willis was on the eve of leav- 
ing home for a voyage to China, he had told Eflie she 
ought always to wear pink. And he looked so much, and 
said not a great deal ; but a word now and then, that, with 
his image, had l^een treasured in little EfAe’s heart ever 
since. ^ , 

Mrs. Fairleigh was thinking too of times when, like 
Eflie, she had her bright dreams — of the happy days when 
she watched and wished for a loved one’s coming. On 
and on, in sad, sweet memories she dwelt. A soft, sweet 
light beaming in her eye, a delicate flush coming over 
the saddened face, Eflie raised her eyes,jmd exclaimed : 

“ Why, mother, how pretty you look ! I declare that 
puts me in mind of what Mrs. Arthur said the other day 
— that she did not know how Mr. Stewart could live in the 
same house with you and not fall in love with you — that 
you were prettier now than half the young girls she 
knew.” 

“ Hush-sh ! directly, Effie. How could Mrs. Arthur 
talk so? I’m astonished at you, Eflie, to repeat her 
words. Dear me ! suppose Mr. Stewart should be in his 


332 effie fair leigh’s reward. 

room ! Do go try the door ! I shall be miserable until 
I’m sure he has gone out. He could hear every word ; 
and what would he think of you or me?” Mrs. Fairleigh 
said, looking very uneasy. 

Mr. Stewart was in his room, and he had heard every 
word. Quick as thought he darted across the floor and 
noiselessly turned the key. 

“ Now rest easy, the door is locked, and he is out, of 
course. You know when he is in, the door is never fast- 
ened,” Effie said. 

“ Go see if the key is out. I cannot rest, I’m so afraid. 
And what would he think of me ? ” 

Quickly across the room Mr. Stewart went; again re- 
turning to his arm-chair with the key not only to Mrs. 
Fairleigh’s front room door, but the key to the little 
woman’s heart, and her reserve of late. 

“ Then she does care what I think of her,” Mr. Stewart 
said, “ I am glad of that.” 

“ The key is out, mother,” said Effie. 

“ I’m relieved now. Now, child, don’t you ever talk, or 
let anybody talk to you like that again. Mr. Stewart has 
some great sorrow, I know, and I would not add to that 
by having such talk reach his ears. But, indeed, I would 
like to know what his trouble is ; and I’d like to comfort 
him if I could. He is a good man, I know, and I’m sorry 
enough for him,” Mrs. Fairleigh said. 

And in the front room Mr. Stewart thought : 

“ She is a dear, gentle little woman, and if I had a happy 
heart to offer her I truly would. But it would be a pity 
to cast my gloom over her. I can never banish from my 
mind the idea that from the spirit world my wife comes, 
calling to me for her child — our child. Why was I so 
proud? Why should I have cast forth my child because 
her young heart wandered where I did not approve? 


EFFIE FAIELEIGH’S REWARD. 333 

Nellie! Nellie! where are you? Suffering, perhaps, and 
I, with all this accursed wealth that made me so proud.” 

The next day, there was a light tap on the back room 
door, and Mr. Stewart stepped in, saying : 

“ I am going out of town to-day, Mrs. Fairleigh. I may 
get back to-morrow, or, perhaps, not for a week or ten 
days. So, if you please, I will pay for my room now. 
And, madam, if you would have inquired a little among 
your neighbors, you would have found out, and saved me 
the mortification of knowing that I was keeping your 
room for twenty dollars, five dollars less than other gentle- 
men pay for the same kind of room. There, madam, not 
a word ! There it is, for this month, and the balance of 
the last. Good-morning, madam.” 

And Mr. Stewart was out and off before the astonished 
little woman could offer a word of remonstrance. 

“Oh, how lucky! Mr. Stewart is my fairy, surely! 
And if I did not know better, I would think he was in his 
room and heard us ! ” Effie exclaimed, her bright eyes 
dancing with delight. 

In less than an hour after, the happy girl was on her 
way to purchase the pink tarletan. 

“ This is a clever little ruse of mine,” said Mr. Stewart. 
“ But unless I can manage to steal in unobserved, I shall 
have to stay all night at a hotel ; or, let me see, if I cannot 
fix up some story, — not exactly a lie, — to tell the little 
woman ! What a sweet face she has ! Ah, I have it ! I 
will say I received a letter, and learned the gentleman I 
have business with was in town, and there was no longer 
necessity for going. Yes — that will do.” 

And well pleased with the little plan for Effie’s pleasure 
and his own relief, he determined to return as usual home, 
and give the invented reason for his not being “ out of 
town.” 


334 EFFIE faieleigh’s reward. 


Effie was just stepping into a store, when she felt her 
dress pull gently, and turning, she saw a little pale face, 
with great pleading brown eyes raised to hers. 

“ Please — oh, please, give me something for mamma. 
She’s so sick, and so cold and hungry too ! ” The little 
thing was shivering. And Effie saw the poor blue toes 
peeping out of the old shoes. 

“ Oh, come on, Effie, it’s the same old story they all tell. 
I’m going to get some fixing for the party, are you ? ” said 
a friend, coming up. 

“ Please ! ” the quivering lips uttered again 

“ Come, do,” said the gay girl. 

Effie put her hand in her pocket, took out and opened 
the portmonnaie. Nothing was there but the ten-dollar bill. 

The child’s eyes were fixed so eagerly on her face that 
Effie could not resist. 

“ I must help her, I believe she is telling the truth,” she 
said, turning to her companion, who, with a toss of her 
head, said : 

“ Very well — I came out to buy, not to he sold,” and 
passed on. 

“ Where do you live, child? ” Effie asked. 

“ Not far. Will you come? You will know then.” 

Effie followed the little form as she hurried, shivering 
along, several squares, to a row of small but decent-looking 
frame houses. Opening the door she led her friend up the 
stairs into a small, almost empty room. Tears sprang to 
Effie’s eyes as she saw the pale face so wasted and full of 
suffering. Effie listened to her story — and then bidding 
the child to stay with her mother — she started off. In 
less than half an hour she was back again with a strong, 
plcasant-looking colored woman, bringing a basket well 
filled with things Effie thought the best for the sick 
woman. 


EFFIE FAIRLEIGH’S REWARD. 335 

A fire was soon started in the little sheet-iron stove ; a 
cnp of tea and toast were placed before the poor mother. 
Little Nell was started down-stairs to beg their landlady 
to let the colored girl broil a piece of steak on her stove. 
From the basket Effie took a pair of shoes and warm 
stockings for little Nell. When the dear good girl had 
made them comfortable, she placed the balance of her ten 
dollars in the mother’s hand, telling her that she must 
take it to buy medicine. And then she went to find her 
doctor and send him where she had been. Willingly he 
went, bless his kind heart ! feeling never better paid than 
when having the chance to help God’s needy ones. 

“And that is where your money has gone,” said Mrs. 
Fairleigh, that afternoon, when Effie told her the story of 
the sick woman and poor, half-naked child. 

“ Yes, mother, and I hope you are not hurt about it. 
I’m not going to ask for any more. I don’t care about 
the pink dress now,” Effie said, looking doubtfully at her 
mother. 

“ Dear child, I’m not hurt about it ; but you were so 
happy when you went off* to spend your money — ” 

“Oh, yes, mother; but oh! I am happier now, indeed 
I am ! Just think how much my ten dollars has done. 
After all, I only cared because — ” She hesitated; the 
roses bloomed brighter on her cheeks just then ; and turn- 
ing away with a little quiver of the lips, which settled into 
a pretty pout, she said : “ I don’t care for anything but 
those poor folks.” 

“But their names, my child — you have not told me 
that.” 

“Why, hers is Eleanore Fenton, and Nell her little 
child’s.” 

Scarcely had she uttered these words when a quick step 


336 EFFIE faieleigh’s reward. 

crossed Mr. Stewart’s room ; his door opened, and, without 
a knock, theirs too. 

“ Take me to them ! ” Mr. Stewart cried. “ They are 
mine — my child and hers! God bless you, Effie, for 
what you have done! Now come with me, quickly — 
do!” 

An hour had scarcely passed when a carriage rolled up 
to Mrs. Fairleigh’s door, and soon after Mr. Stewart came 
in, bearing in his arms his daughter. Gently he placed 
her in his arm-chair before the brightly-burning fire, and 
then, turning to Effie, he said : 

u Will you stay and take care of them while I speak to 
your mother ? ” 

Never in the world was a little woman so taken by sur- 
prise as Mrs. Fairleigh, when, meeting her in the hall, Mr. 
Stewart said, taking her hand and drawing her into her 
own room : 

“ Mrs. Fairleigh, if I had had a cheerful, happy heart, I 
should have offered it you a month ago. But I could not 
think of casting my gloom over you. Now I’m relieved, 
and will be happy if you will just say yes to my ques- 
tion: Can you care enough for me to marry me? My 
poor daughter wants a mother’s care, and Effie ought to 
have a father, and I — I want the little woman who said, 
only yesterday, she would like to comfort me.” 

“Oh! did you hear?” Mrs. Fairleigh began saying, 
blushing like a young girl. 

“ Yes, all but my answer.” 

“Yes, if—” 

“Yes. That’s enough. Thank you, dear Mary,” Mr. 
Stewart said, raising her hand to his lips and then draw- 
ing her nearer. “ I’ve felt like kissing you many times. 
I might as well begin now.” 

And before Mary could object the kiss was taken, 


EFFIE FAIELEIGH’S REWARD. 337 

and with a merry laugh, the first she had ever heard 
from Mr. Stewart, he drew her with him to his daughter’s 
side. 

“ Here, my daughter, is the mother of your kind little 
friend, and she will very soon, I hope, be your mother, 
too.” 

And when Mary Fairleigh was bending over to kiss 
Eleanore, Mr. Stewart went and put his arm around Effie, 
and asked : 

“ Can you make up your mind to welcoming me with a 
kiss, little daughter ? ” 

“ Indeed I can,” said Effie, with a warm kiss, “ and I’m 
just as glad as I can be.” 

Under their loving care the widowed daughter soon 
grew well and cheerful again ; and little Nell’s merry laugh 
sounded through the house. 

The night of the party Effie stayed at home. She for- 
got all about it in the great excitement of that day on 
which Mr. Stewart found his daughter, and the next also. 
Then the third day it was to be, and then it was too late to 
get ready. 

She was thinking a good deal about Willis, and wonder- 
ing if he had come. And so, with thoughts of him in her 
mind, she put on the prettiest pink tie possible, and fixed 
pink ribbon on her bright brown hair, and looked as lovely 
in her black alpaca that evening as she would have in the 
pink tarletan, I think, and so thought somebody else — or, 
at least, he thought she could not look more beautiful — 
and that somebody was no other than Willis Carleton, 
who, having been to the party, and waited impatiently 
enough for her coming, had started to find and bring her. 

How happy she was! How happy they both were! 
The party was quite forgotten until after eleven o’clock, 
when Willis started up, saying. 


338 EFFIE fairleigh’s reward. 


“Aunt will never forgive me. But how I hate to go! 
May I come to-morrow ? Will you take a walk ? And in 
the evening we will go to the opera, and — I’m selfish 
enough to make you promise that, while I’m here, you will 
go with no one else ! Say, Effie, promise me that, and I 
will go away contented to-night, and happy enough, too !” 

Of course she promised, and was glad enough to do it. 
And with such a beginning, we may know before a week 
had passed she had promised more than that. 

Mr. Stewart carried his wife to their elegant home just 
as soon as his daughter was well enough to be removed, 
and that was scarcely a month after he found her. And in 
the new home there is to be a wedding right soon. Willis 
doesn’t believe in long engagements, and neither do I. 

“You are very happy, Effie,” her mother said, as they 
were busy in making beautiful things for Effie’s wedding. 

“ Indeed I am, mother. I have been every hour since 
I spent my ten-dollar bill. Oh, mother, did ever ten 
dollars bring such happiness before ? ” 

“ Oh, my love, it is all the reward of a pure, kind, and 
loving heart.” 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN 



i HETTY little Grace Wentworth listened eagerly for her 


husband’s coming steps. She had been married but 
a year, and that evening was the anniversary of their 
wedding. 

“He will bring me that exquisite diamond ring, I’m 
sure. Linnette Osborn’s husband gave her an elegant 
pearl cross, on their anniversary, Harry knows. I’m just 
wild about that ring, and — ah, here he comes now,” she 
said. 

A moment after, a quick, firm step came through the 
hall, the door opened, and Harry Wentworth came for- 
ward, kissed the bright lips held up to him, and taking 
off the wrapping, held forward an exquisite bouquet of 
rare exotics. 

“ Here, darling ! ” he said. “ I wanted to bring you 
something different to-day. But I dared not do it. We 
must wait for better times. This day, the anniversary of 
the very happiest of my life, I thought to have brought 
my little wife something of greater value, to express my 
appreciation and love. But these flowers must speak for 


me. 


Grace took the flowers, pressed them to her lips to hide 
their quivering, but she could not hide from the loving, 
watchful eyes of her husband the look of disappointment 
all over her beautiful face. 


21 


( 339 ) 


340 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 


“ There, there ! never mind, love. I know yon are dis- 
appointed ; but cheer up, little wife. I trust this sad 
state of affairs will not last very long, and then you shall 
have your diamond ring,” Harry said, gently caressing 
her. 

At the mention of the ring Grace could restrain her tears 
no longer. She sobbed right out. 

“ Four days ago Linnette Osborn’s husband gave her a 
lovely pearl cross and chain, and — and I told her what I 
hoped for. She will think it so queer, and I shall be so 
mortified. What can I say? She will surely ask me. 
And, Harry, I don’t think Will Osborn is doing any better 
business than you.” 

Harry Wentworth’s fine face grew very grave as he said, 
in a slightly reproachful tone : 

“ I did not think my wife would grieve so about a really 
unnecessary article. I believed you would understand 
that some very good reason prevented my giving you this 
pleasure. I, too, am disappointed, dear. But don’t meas- 
ure or weigh your husband’s love by his gifts, Grace. But 
I must not be severe. You are scarce more than a child — 
a loving, petted, spoiled child. But now listen, dear. I 
might have brought you the ring. I could have paid for 
it, or have gone in debt.” 

“No, no; I would not have wished that,” Grace said, 
wiping her eyes, and trying to look satisfied. 

“If I had paid for it, dear, it might have been at a 
severe cost. But we will not say any more about it. Kiss 
me, and then we will have one of our duets, love. It is so 
long since we have had any music. These times have 
almost driven all the music from my nature.” 

“ These times ! ” Grace said to herself. “ I am heartily 
tired of hearing those words. And it is too bad that I 
should have to suffer for other folks’ misfortunes or mis- 
deeds, I am not sure which.” 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 341 

Ah, little did Grace Wentworth know the meaning of 
the word she used. 

Cradled in luxury, reared in a home of affluence, what 
could she understand of suffering ? 

The week passed by, and Grace tried to banish the dis- 
appointment from her mind. She did not return Mrs. 
Osborn’s call, as she had promised. 

“ I could not endure the look of astonishment she would 
fix on me when, in answer to her inquiry, I should have to 
answer, i Only a bouquet,’ ” Grace said. 

The bouquet was still very beautiful and fresh, although 
quite a week old. Indeed it seemed possessed of a per- 
petual bloom. Grace was changing the water in the vase, 
when Nora, the Irish girl, came in. 

“What is it, Nora?” Grace inquired, as the girl stood 
hesitating beside her. 

“ Could I have an hour or so this morning, plase ? And 
would you spare me a dollar ? Sure and it’s not for my- 
self I’d be asking, but me brother. The childers are sick, 
and it’s not a cint that they have, and it’s half starving I 
found thim last night,” Nora said, the tears rolling down 
her face. 

“ Why, yes, certainly — go ; and here, your month’s wages 
is nearly due ; you can have more, or all. But, Nora, is 
not your brother at work with Mr. Osborn ? ” 

“ Sure he is, ma’am, but it’s not a cint that he got a 
Saturday night. Ah, and it’s awful times these be now ! 
Tin of the hands, that’s bin getting of twelve dollars a 
week, wint home with none at all, sure. Did the master 
say nothin’ at all about it ? The men takes it awful bad, 
because some tells of how Mr. Osborn could have done 
better. Sure and it’s meself, Nora O’Flyn, that see the 
suffering about.” 

“No, Nora, Mr. Wentworth said nothing of it. I be- 
lieve his men were paid off.” 


342 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 


“Yes, and may the Lord bless and kape him forever! 
The men are telling about the difference between them, 
sure — Mr. Osborn and the master. But it’s goin’ I’ll be.” 

“ Nora, come first to the pantry; I’ll fix up some things 
for you. Or just give me a basket, and I’ll put in the 
things while you are getting ready,” Grace said. 

Ten minutes after, Nora came back, picking up one 
bundle after another, smelling and pinching them, as she 
exclaimed : 

“ Tea ! coffee ! sugar ! crackers ! wine ! the cold chicken 
I fixed for your lunch, sure ! And jelly ! Oh, may you 
live forever ! For what would w r e do without you, sure ! 
Oh, the mother and the childers will pray for you every 
day that they live ! ” 

With the grateful Nora’s words still sounding in her 
ear, Grace Wentworth sat down to think over the scene 
about the diamond ring. 

“ Oh, how must Harry have been hurt and disappointed 
at my reception of his gift ! Ah, perhaps when he said 
that if he had bought the ring it might have been at a 
severe cost, he meant that he could not have paid his men, 
as usual. He has looked so worried oftentimes lately. 
I’m sorry I behaved so like a child. I will try and do 
better in future.” 

When Harry came home to dinner, Grace had so much 
to tell about Nora’s friends. But her husband said little 
on the subject. He had determined to cloud Grace’s 
sunny nature as little as possible with outside troubles. 
And so she began to think perhaps things or “ the times” 
were not so bad, after all, and the next week she said : 

“ Harry, my hat is out of date. Almost all of my friends 
have gotten their fall fixings, and can I not have mine ? ” 

“What is necessary?” Harry asked, in a tone Grace 
did not like at all. So she said : 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 343 

“ Necessary ! Nothing, I suppose. I can stay in the 
house.” 

“ What do you wish , then, Grace ? ” her husband asked, 
gravely. 

“A hat, a fall suit, gloves, shoes, and some new ribbons. 
Harry, I declare, by your looks, one would suppose I was 
extravagant. I’ve not had a hat for three months,” Grace 
said, the quick tears coming again. Alas! for her good 
intentions. 

“ What will they cost ? ” he simply asked. 

“A hundred dollars I might make do.” 

He looked as if about to remonstrate, but then, with a 
sigh, he took up his hat, asking : 

“ When must you have it ? ” 

“This is Friday; I should like it by Monday, please.” 

“ Very well, I will try to have it for you. Good-by,” he 
said, and pressing his lips to hers, went out. 

“ Now, Harry is worried because I asked him for that 
trifle! I declare, the more one gives up, the more she 
may ! ” pouted Grace. 

“I don’t care. I’m not going out looking dowdy. I 
will put on my things now, and go and engage Mrs. 
Harding to do my suit the first of the week.” 

“Are you busy ? ” she asked, entering the dressmaker’s 
room. 

“No, indeed ; I wish we were. Scarcely any work at all, 
and no pay for what we have done,” Mrs. Harding said, 
with a sigh. 

A groan from the next room caused her to go hurriedly 
out. After several minutes’ absence, she returned and said : 

“Maggie is suffering so terribly with her eyes, poor 
child ; it almost sets me crazy to see her so.” 

“ Yes, I remember they were troubling her considerably, 
some months ago. Was it occasioned by trying them too 
severely ? ” Grace asked. 


344 


THE COST OF A TEINKET. 


“Yes, yes; every night until almost morning, and on 
very trying materials too. Do you remember that embroi- 
dered black Cashmere of Mrs. Osborn’s? That was the 
finishing stroke, I believe.” 

“ Yes, I do. No amount could pay the cost of that suit, 
I should feel. Does she know it ? ” asked Grace. 

Just at that moment the door opened, and a girl entered. 
Mrs. Harding asked quickly : 

“Have you got it?” 

“ Not a cent. She read your note, and I told her how 
terribly Maggie was suffering — ” 

“ God help us ! What shall we do ? ” groaned the mother. 

“What is it? Tell me, do?” said Grace, going up to 
Mrs. Harding and taking her hand. 

“ Oh, I sent to Mrs. Osborn again. I have been sending 
for weeks, without success. This time I made such an 
appeal, I thought she could not resist. I begged her to 

send me enough only to send Maggie to B , to have her 

eyes attended. But you see she has not done it. She 
owes us, Maggie mostly, fifty dollars. I begged for thirty, 
or, if not so much, any amount,” the poor mother sobbed 
forth. 

“ Perhaps she has it not. Her husband could not pay 
his workmen last week,” Grace was saying, when the poor 
woman cried out : 

“ I know it ; and I know more than that. I know that 
the same -week he bought and paid for a pearl cross and 
chain, that cost a hundred and twenty-five dollars. My 
neighbor’s boy is employed in Grey’s where it was bought. 
He told me. And now, now, my poor child is almost 
dying with pain, and quite blind. They will not pay us 
a dollar. How can she wear that cross, knowing this ? ” 

“ May I go see Maggie ? ” Grace asked. 

“Yes; but it is no use to have you distressed about her.” 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 


345 


Poor Maggie had heard the girl’s reply when she 
returned. Ah, wdiat a heavy cross she had to bear then. 
She had hoped so much. She was so confident of the skill 
of the oculist whom she was advised to seek. 

She was praying for strength when Grace came in : 

“Dear Lord, give me strength to bear my suffering! 
Saviour, help me bear my cross ! ” Grace heard her whisper. 

So pale, so wan, so thin, so patient! Ah, Grace saw 
w T hat suffering was then. 

“ I cannot see you, but I hear you, dear lady. Come, sit 
close by me — I’m glad you are here. Poor mother is 
almost broken down. Try to cheer her a little.” 

Grace’s tears were flowing — she could not answer just 
then. After a little she asked — because she knew not 
what else to say, I think : 

“ What is the doctor’s name — the one you wish to con- 
sult ? ” 

“ Doctor Mason,” Maggie answered. 

“ Doctor Mason ! Charles Mason ? ” Grace asked, 
quickly. 

“Yes, madam.” 

“ Then, my dear, my patient little Maggie, you shall go 
to him to-morrow — or just as soon as you can He is my 
father’s dearest friend, and distant relative. Maggie, you 

shall go right to him. It will cost only the fare to B , 

and we will manage that,” Grace said, kissing the pale 
brow of patient Maggie, and adding, “I have enough 
money for that now with me. Mrs. Harding, come here,” 
Grace called. 

“ Mother, God has helped us quickly,” Maggie said. 

Again kissing the gentle girl, Grace hurried off with the 
mother’s blessing following her. She would not tell her 
husband of what she was about, that night. “ Not until I 
get Maggie off,” she said. 


346 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 


Grace then consulted Nora about the probability of get, 
ting one of her nieces to go and help Mrs. Harding for 
a few days. “ Do you think either of them would go, 
Nora?” 

“ Sure, and I know they will, and for not a red cint of 
pa} r , but one of your own blessed smiles. And if you 
would go for thim yourself, sure, and it’s the whole of 
thim that’ll be after following you to the ind of the earth 
if you go,” Nora answered. 

“ Then I will go myself, Nora,” Grace said. 

It was Saturday afternoon again. 

“ Suffering enough everywhere now, I think,” said 
Grace, as she sat in Nora’s brother’s home. 

“ Just wait a bit till the father comes, and then Katie’ll 
go with you. She be after wantin’ to know if it’s any pay 
that he gits,” said the mother. 

Eagerly they watched for the father. At length a cry 
from one of the children told of his coming. Heavy was 
his tread. Heavy grew the heart that knew his best. 

“Ah, it’s nothin’. There’s no life in his tread. The 
childer’s cries are tearing his heart-strings now,” the 
mother wailed. 

“Ah, Pat, my man, how is it wid ye ? ” 

“ Nothin’ at all. Not a red cint. Oh, bad luck to me 
if iver I do a stroke of work for him agin.” 

And down on the table beside him went his great 
shaggy head, with a heavy thump, and a loud cry escaped 
his lips : 

“ The childers will be starving ! ” 

“Oh, I cannot stand this,” Grace cried, starting up. 
“Here, Mrs. O’Flyn, it’s only two dollars. I have no 
more.” 

She was about to run out, when the door opened and a 
voice called : 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 347 

“ Pat, where are ye, me man ? Cheer up a bit. Don’t 
be cast down. It’s Dan O’Kelly that can give ye a lift. 
Here ! It’s no childers I have. I’ll divide wid ye. It’s 
twelve dollars that I have, thanks to the boss. May the 
Lord bless ivery hair of his head ! ” 

“ Yis, bless him. He’s a man that’ll not be wearing of 
diamonds when his hands are starvin’, nor drinkin’ of 
wine when it’s not a drop of tae that the women or childers 
can have. Yis, good luck and long life to Mister Went- 
worth — God bless him and his forever ! ” exclaimed Pat, 
and his cry was joined by his wife and his friend. 

Grace stole away, followed by Katie, whose young heart 
was light again. Grace left her with Mrs. Harding, who 
w r as very thankful for the timely help. 

“ Harry ! dear Harry ! there, sit still in your chair. Let 
me be at your feet. Can you forgive your unworthy 
little wife?” Grace said. 

“ Why, Grace, child, what do you mean ? ” Harry asked, 
raising her to his lap. 

“ Harry, I don’t want that money. I only want to be 
worthy of my noble and just husband. I want to help 
you in all your good acts, not retard them. I know now 
w T hy I could not have the ring. Ah, there is my sweet 
little bouquet ! I will keep it forever to remind me of my 
naughtiness that day.” 

“ No, no, dear wife ; only as a reminder of your hus- 
band’s love,” Harry said, caressing her. 

“ Oh, Harry, I’ve heard blessings enough on you to-day, 
and almost curses on another ! I would not wear that 
cross of Linnette’s for all the world. How much suffering, 
how many tears, has every one of those pearls cost ! Oh, 
it is a heavy, heavy cross she wears ! ” Grace said. 

“ Yes, dear, if I had given you what I wished so much, 
my men — some of them — would have gone unpaid. I was 
only just, my wife.” 


348 


THE COST OF A TRINKET. 


“And I was just a spoiled chiid, as you said. But now, 
my husband, I am going to try to be a true woman,” Grace 
answered. 

“That’s my own darling, my precious wife. I have 
been rather despondent for a few days, but with your dear 
help I think we’ll stem the tide — at any rate we will do 
the very best we can. And if my little wife has fewer 
diamonds, she will have more blessings,” Harry said, his 
eyes filled with more than admiration and devotion as 
they rested on her. 

A week after Grace had a letter from Doctor Mason, 
giving good hope of Maggie’s eyes being again as well and 
strong as ever. 


LITTLE RAY. 


BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. 

I N a miserable room, on the first floor, or rather in the 
basement, of an old tenement house, a young woman 
was bending over a bed, on which lay a man apparently 
very ill, perhaps dying. Indeed, in that dreadful room 
how could it be otherwise ? The air was heavy with dis- 
ease, aye, death. On that cold December day the earth 
threw up bubbles of water through the great holes in the 
rotten planks, which yielded to every passing foot. There 
was a frightened look in the beautiful eyes of the woman, 
as she bent still lower, until her ear rested close to the lips 
of the sufferer. She listened a few seconds, then quickly 
crossing the room to a cupboard she took from it a small 
bottle and drained its contents. Hastening back she gently 
raised his head and said, in a soft, pleading tone : 

“ Harry, love, take this ! Do for my sake ! ” she 
continued, as a movement very slight but resisting was 
made. 

Slowly, feebly, the eyes opened. Such .great, sad, suffer- 
ing eyes. 

“ No, no. You shall not try to speak yet. Take this, 
love. There, now, you will soon be stronger. You had 
such a long coughing spell it exhausted you. Now, give 
me your other hand, and I will rub it as warm as this. 
Hush ! Please, dear, do not try to talk yet.” 

Rubbing and talking, in coaxing, soothing words and 

( 349 ) 


350 


LITTLE RAY. 


tone, the gentle woman continued, until seeing how eager 
he was to speak, she said : 

“ What is it, dear ? ” 

“Oh, Ruth, why did you bring me back? I was so 
nearly free — almost gone ! You are- not a wise little wo- 
man. If I were gone, we both would be freed from suffer- 
ing. Your friends would find you then: forgive you, and 
take care of you and our little one.” 

“ Harry ! Harry ! do not talk so ! Can you think that 
all they could give me, all the love and comfort I should 
gain through them, could compensate me for your loss ? 
No ! Oh, no ! ” she cried. 

“ Ruth, dear, you are a true, devoted wife, and I know 
how much you will mourn for me. But, oh, do you not 
know you will not lose me ? I shall be only a little way 
off, dear — gone a little while before, that is all — waiting for 
your coming, love — hovering sometimes very near, I trust. 
Think of this, Ruth, and do not weep. Bear up a little 
longer, dear wife.” 

“Yes, yes, I will bear up. There is something that 
whispers , 1 Be of good cheer ’ — something that makes my 
heart grow strong. Oh, surely father cannot hold his wrath 
forever ! Surely his heart will open to his child again ! 
Ah, if he could know how terribly we are suffering for our 
ingratitude, or disobedience of his and God’s commands, 
he could forgive. You bear up, Harry. Try to live. 
Keep up your spirits a while longer — -just through this 
night. To-morrow — oh, surely to-morrow ! — God will give 
us relief. Ah, do not shake your head ! ” she said. “ Oh, 
I must give you more of your mixture, and brighten the 
fire, then you will feel better.” 

Starting up, she went to the cupboard. An instant 
more and the hopeful look fled quickly from her face, and 
with a low, despairing moan she sobbed : 


LITTLE KAY. 


351 


“ No medicine, no wood, no food, and — oh, God ! — not 
even a candle. What shall I do through this long, long 
night as I watch ? ” 

The terrible thought that perhaps she might be watch- 
ing beside her dying husband was not permitted to reach 
his ear. 

Dropping heavily in her chair, all the newly-acquired 
strength seemed entirely to have deserted her. She 
moaned : 

“ No gleam of hope, no light, not even a ray — ” 

“ Yes, mamma, mamma, here I am ! ” cried a happy 
voice. 

An instant more and little Ray, her darling child, sprang 
lightly into her mother’s arms, clasping her own tightly 
around her neck, and almost smothering her with kisses. 

“ How cold you are, my child,” Ruth said, pressing the 
little form closer to her own. 

“Am I ? I didn’t know it. Never mind ; I’m going to 
make a big fire, and make us all warm.” 

“No more fire to-day, love,” Ruth said, sadly. 

“ Oh, yes, mamma, for I have got lots of wood — I mean 
blocks and chips. And, mamma, Billy Smith — you know 
his mamma is the washing-woman up-stairs — he brought 
them home for me in his little wagon. Oh, ’deed he is 
such a nice boy ! And, mamma, see here : Mr. Hartly, 
that keeps the wood-yard, gave me this.” 

“A dollar ! Oh, thank God ! ” Ruth cried. “ Ray, my 
darling, this will save your papa’s life. Run to the drug 
store. Get the mixture, you know, and, dear, a little wine, 
at the same place, and then hurry and buy two eggs and 
some crackers— quick, love ! ” she said, wrapping the old 
shawl around the little one, and handing her the two 
vials. 

“ Yes, mamma, I’ll almost fly ; see if I don’t. And you, 


352 


LITTLE RAY. 


please, take the wood from Billy, or call him. He’ll 
bring it. He is such a nice hoy,” Ray said, as she ran out. 

Ruth thanked the little boy, who insisted on finishing 
up his job, by landing the wood near the stove. A faint 
smile flitted over her face as she looked into that of the 
“nice boy.” His complexion was rather muddy, and 
quite repudiated Ray’s statement, that his mother was a 
washi ng-woman. 

As the door closed after Billy, Ruth sank on her knees, 
beside her husband, to breathe her prayer of thanks- 
giving. 

The fire was burning brightly when Ray returned. 
Another dose of the mixture, an egg, a little wine and 
cracker soon worked wonders with the sick man. Ruth’s 
cheerfulness was restored, when she saw the happy effect. 

Ray told her mother that every day Mr. Hartly was 
going to give her blocks and chips; and she believed he 
gave her the dollar because she was like his little girl in 
heaven. 

“ May I go out again, mamma ? ’Tain’t near dark out- 
side. Do ? ” Ray plead. 

Ruth consented ; for this little sunbeam had been almost 
reared outside, in the sunshine. From her baby days, she 
had crowed and clapped her hands at every ray of light ; 
whining and crying if the window-blinds were closed, 
and crawling out into the open air whenever a chance 
presented. 

This love of sunshine and fresh air, and the freedom 
allowed the child, had given her the bright, happy nature, 
the strong, healthy little. body, notwithstanding the suffer- 
ing and privation she endured. 

“ Yes, yes, go,” her mother answered. “ For no matter 
what the air is outside, it is better than here.” 

Rachel was the little one’s name, called for Ruth’s 


LITTLE RAY. 


353 


mother. But this quiet, Quaker name seemed not suitable 
for the merry, laughing, sunshiny babe ; so they call her 
Ray. 

A few moments and she ran back to say : 

“ I’ve brought you some oil for your lamp, mamma, and 
a little tea — and, mamma, I’ve kept ten cents for myself; I 
might want to spend it.” 

With a comic pucker of her pretty mouth, she ran out. 


“ Evening Star ! Evening Mail ! Sentinel ! Full ac- 
count of the great railroad collision ! ” yelled the news- 
boys. 

Ray’s face brightened. She found her friend Billy 
Smith, and entered into a solemn consultation, which 
resulted in a speedy decision. 

“ I’d, ef I was you,” said Billy. 

“ I will” answered Ray. 

“ I’ll show you where! ” 

“ That’s a good boy,” ended the conference. 


“ What ! You want to sell papers ? Well, this is some- 
thing new. But why not? Women-folks are editors of 
papers now-a-days, and I don’t see why they should not be 
news-boys, too. Oh — ah — no, not exactly, news -girls, I 
mean. And now I think of it — that's just what they’ve 
been always. Well, I’ve no time to puzzle my brains to 
find a title to suit the progressive females, either mothers 
or babies,” said Mr. Trueman. 

“There, little one. Go right in there! Through that 
door, and sit down by the fire. It is dreadful damp and 
cold here. You will see the master in that little room 
back. But don’t go near him if he is writing ; wait until 
he comes to you, and then ask him. Don’t be afraid, he 
is not cross ! Poor child ! poor baby ! There is the best 


354 


LITTLE RAY. 


place for her. If he don’t let her have the papers he’ll do 
better for her. He’s always kind to children. Indeed it 
is hard for him to say ‘ no ’ any time,” Mr. Trueman said, 
as he closed the door after little Ray. 

“ Oh my ! ain’t it nice in here ? ’Deed it’s jolly ! ” the 
shivering child said, in a low, well-satisfied tone, as she 
approached the brightly-burning fire in the open grate. 

As she stood rubbing her hands, and holding up first 
one, then the other little foot to warm, she peeped through 
the inner door to get a glimpse of the master. 

“ Oh, I’m not a bit afraid of him ! ITe is so nice. Oh, 
he’s beautiful ! ” Ray said. 

Everything Ray liked was nice and beautiful. 

“ I wish I looked nice ! ” she said. 

Then the little old hood was pushed back and off. For 
Ray knew well enough that the bright golden head was a 
more pleasing sight than the ugly brown covering. With 
a glance down at the old shoes, through which the little 
toes were peeping, the bright face was clouded for an in- 
stant only. Down on the carpet Ray sat, and from the 
black shawl she tore a little piece, and tucked it in the 
opening, over the little toes. The other shoe was dealt 
with likewise. Then, with a little nod of approval, Ray 
leaned her little head back against the wall to wait the 
master’s coming. 

Soon the heavily-fringed eyelids began to droop ; a few 
minutes more and Ray was in dreamland. 

Truly the little girl was right, she need not fear the 
master. 

A very handsome man was the editor, Mr. Forrest. At 
first, he might be supposed over sixty years ; but on closer 
inspection, one sees it is the wealth of silvery hair thrown 
off the noble brow that gives him the appearance of greater 
age. Great sorrow or severe pain must have suddenly 


LITTLE RAY. 


355 


bleached those locks which must have been raven, judging 
from the very dark eyes. 

Glorious eyes they are, which, as he raises them from 
the paper, are, at times, flashing, piercing, burning with 
inspiration, and again growing soft, gentle, and full of 
tenderness. 

Truly his heart must be in his work. He is writing a 
plea for the poor children of our city. The world called 
Mr. Forrest a very successful man. Aye, he had gained 
wealth and considerable fame, but he was far from a happy 
man. His magnificent home was lonely, dreary. He had 
had his own sorrows. Early in life, in the first bloom of 
wedded bliss, he had lost his wife. Never had he given 
her place, either in his heart or home, to another. To her 
child, his little daughter, he gave all the love he could 
give to any one on earth, and she, in return, was a loving, 
devoted daughter, until into her soul there grew another 
and a different love. 

Listening neither to the entreaties, persuasion nor com- 
mands of her father, she fled from him. He had never 
seen her since, although ten years had passed since then. 
Every letter attempting a reconciliation had been returned 
unopened. 

It was a terrible blow to her father. His plans had 
been very bright for the future of his child ; his ambition 
the highest. The young man for whose love his child had 
risked everything, was a protege of his own — one in whom 
discovering much talent, the editor had elevated from an 
office-boy to one after another position of higher grade, 
greater responsibility. Having a real affection for the 
young man, he was willing to give him anything but his 
beautiful daughter. 

Rapidly the editor’s pen flew over the paper ; on and 
on he wrote, and on slept little Ray. At length his task 
22 


356 


LITTLE RAY. 


was ended, the pen thrown down, and with a sigh of relief 
he sank into his chair. 

“ There — that will do, I think,” he said. “ I hope, I 
believe this will find an echo, an answering chord in many 
hearts.” 

“ Bless me! where did this little waif come from?” 
exclaimed Mr. Forrest, a few moments after, as he stood 
bending oyer the sleeping child. “Really, now, this is 
coming home to one, and a pretty good chance to practise 
my own preaching. Poor little one ! ” 

There was something about that little head, with its 
wealth of golden waves, that deeply touched his heart 
and carried him back long years gone by, when just such 
a bright, beautiful head nestled close to his own and slept 
upon his breast. Stooping, he passed his hand gently 
over the soft curls and pushed them off from the fair white 
brow. 

With a startled expression the blue eyes opened, and 
Ray, waking from her happy dream, exclaimed : 

“ Oh, thank j r ou. Thank you, sir. You are so kind, so 
beautiful! Oh, my ! ain’t they nice ! ” 

“ Thanks for what, my child ? I’ve given you nothing. 
You must have been dreaming,” Mr. Forrest said, drawing 
Ray close beside him. 

“Have I? Yes, I know now. But I’m sure I know 
you. Don't you know me ? ” 

The bright little face was lifted to his, smiling and con- 
fident. 

“ Waiting my coming, she fell asleep and dreamed of 
me so vividly she feels as if she knows me. Well, well, I 
will do the best I can for her. I suppose Trueman sent 
her here,” Mr. Forrest thought. 

“ Well, little one, what must I do for you? What give 
you ? ” he asked. 


LITTLE RAY. 


357 


“ Oh, you have given me so much,” Ray began saying, 
the dream still filling her mind. “ Oh, I forgot ; I want 
some papers to sell, please, sir. The gentleman said I 
must come to you.” 

“ Oh, dear, this is dreadful. Little girls do not run 
about the streets and sell papers. Where are your parents, 
child, and what is your name ? ” 

“ Papa is most dead — dreadful sick — and mamma has 
no money. I want to get money for to buy medicine and 
bread. Ray is my name. No, mamma calls me so, but 
Rachel is my right name. For mamma’s mamma I’m 
named. Can’t I have the papers ? ” 

“Your other name, your father’s, child? Tell me!” 
Mr. Forrest asked, quickly. 

“Ashton — Harry Ashton ! ” Ray answered low, fright- 
ened by his changed and stern manner. 

“ Great Heaven ! ” exclaimed Mr. Forrest, starting back 
from the clinging hand of Ray. 

“ Don’t be mad. Please don’t,” she said. 

“Child, tell me truly who sent you here — for surely 
you were sent ? ” 

“ Yes, sir — I was brought here. Billy Smith came with 
me, ’cause his brother got papers here. He promised to 
wait. Oh ! it’s dark, and mamma will be frightened. I 
don’t hardly know the way. I must go ! ” 

With quivering lips she started towards the door. 

“ Stop ! ” the editor said, gently. 

Ah ! the key was found. The lock was yielding, turn- 
ing, and soon the portals were thrown bpen, the long-closed 
heart waiting — aye, yearning for the love so long denied 
admittance. 

With open arms, his voice quivering with emotion, he 
said : 

“ Come, my child, I will take you to your mother.” 


358 


LITTLE RAY. 


And when Ray was nestled close within his arms he 
asked : “ Did you ever hear your mother speak of her 
father, little one ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, indeed,” Ray answered. 

And then she told him the story her mother had told 
her, of the loving father that she had left, of the poverty 
since, and the dreadful place she called home. 

Deeply agitated the editor listened. At length starting 
up, with a deep groan, he said : 

“Come, my child. We have no time to spare. Oh, 
God, grant that I shall not be too late. Wait here a few 
moments. I must make some little preparation for our 
going. Here, little Rachel. Come, kiss me. I’m your 
grandfather, child. Love me, if you can. I scarcely 
deserve it.” 

With her arms clasped tightly about his neck, her soft 
cheek pressed to his, Ray answered : 

“ I loved you the first minute I saw you through the 
door. And, oh, my dream is coming true.” 

Unclasping her arms, and seating her in the comfortable 
arm-chair, Mr. Forrest went out. 

Almost wild with anxiety, Ruth was awaiting her child’s 
return. She had tried to conceal her fears from her hus- 
band, dreading any excitement might prove fatal, perhaps. 
Again and again she had been out, looking up and down 
the street, round the corner, and inquiring, but all in 
vain. 

Nearly three hours had elapsed since her child went 
out, and it had been quite dark for over half that time. 
Ruth determined to find a policeman, and obtain advice 
from him. Fortunately Harry was sleeping. She could 
steal away and return ere he awoke. She was wrapping 
her shawl about her. The stopping of a carriage near had 


LITTLE HAY. 359 

not caught her ear, but a few seconds after the coming of 
little feet caused her to spring to the door, crying : 

“ Thank God ! it is she I ” 

The next instant Ray was clasped to her bosom, her 
face showered with tears and kisses. 

“ Oh, my darling, where have you been ? ” Ruth asked. 

“ To grandpa I ” Ray answered, her face beaming with 
smiles. 

Almost speechless with astonishment, Ruth stood gazing 
at her child. Then, with a quivering lip, she asked : 

“ How could you find him ? Who sent you, love ? ” 

“ God sent her, my child,” answered a voice full of ten- 
derness. 

“ Father ! ” Another instant and Ruth was clasped to 
her father’s heart. 

“ Forgive ! oh, forgive ! ” she cried. 

“ My child, as I expect to be forgiven here, and hope to 
he hereafter. But, come; it cannot hurt Harry to he 
moved near as much as remaining in this dreadful place. 
Not a word, dear. Everything is arranged for your 
coming immediately home.” 

“ Home 1 ” cried Ruth, joyously. 

“Ay, home. There now, I’m going to have a strong 
fellow come in to bring the blankets, and lift Harry out. 
Awake him gently while I am gone. Bring nothing to 
remind us of this place.” 

Ruth, in her great anxiety about Ray’s absence, had 
given Harry an over-dose of cough-mixture. The drowsi- 
ness occurring from it was just as well, for he did not 
return to a perfect consciousness until he was comfortably 
fixed in the large, well-heated, and elegantly furnished 
room. 

The cheerful face of an eminent physician was bending 
over him. In a well-assured tone, Harry heard him say : 


360 


LITTLE RAY. 


“ Oh, I will promise you, madam, to have him up and 
about again. We will give him a plenty of pure air, good 
food, and very little medicine.” 

“Yes, my son, we will have you soon all right again,” 
Mr. Forrest said, pressing the thin white hand. 

How much that one little word told to Harry! He 
knew that all was forgiven — all was well. 

The doctor’s words proved true. In a few weeks Harry 
was convalescing rapidly. Surrounded with every com- 
fort, with love, and his mind at ease, he will soon be well 
again. 

Little Ray and her grandfather are almost inseparable 
companions. Never to any child was more love given. 
She is loved for the sake of his young wife, so soon taken 
from him, whose name she bears ; for the daughter lost 
and found again, to be dearer than ever before, and for her 
own dear self, the brightest Ray that ever crossed life’s 
pathway — the blessed little Ray that melted her grand- 
father’s heart and let the sunshine of love and joy within ! 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


BY FRANCES IIENSHAW BADEN. 

^ TX7ILL you get me one, Will? Do. You know I am 
V V so lonesome while you are absent. And a sewing- 
machine not only will facilitate my work, but be really 
company for me. Please ? ” 

The pretty little woman put her hand caressingly on her 
husband’s shoulder, and looked so sweetly and pleadingly 
into his eyes, that he found it no longer possible to with- 
hold the desired promise. 

“ Yes, yes, you shall have one, May. I — ” 

She interrupted him, by exclaiming: 
u Oh ! thank you, Will. When ? To-day ? This morn- 
ing ? I can scarcely wait to see it, now I know I am to 
have one. Whose make ? Which do you think the best ? 
Can I go to look at some ? ” 

“Stop, do, and get your breath. You have asked about 
a dozen questions. What an impatient little body you 
are ! ” said William Lance. 

The least bit of a pout, which was not disfiguring to the 
little mouth, made him sensible he had said something 
unpleasant, and William hastened to say : 

“ There — I did not mean, by saying you were impatient, 
that you were cross, irritable, peevish, or anything of that 
sort ; nothing but the best construction you can put on the 
word. Now bring back your smiles and listen to me. You 
will have to restrain your eagerness — ah, that’s the word — 

( 361 ) 


362 


A TEIAL OF PATIENCE. 


not objectionable, hey?” said William, catching hold of 
the little chin and kissing away the pout which camo 
again. “I will talk with some of my friends, and get 
some points concerning the different makes. If I can I 
will get Barden to look round with me. He knows all 
about machines. If I am satisfied on the subject, I will 
try and get you one up this afternoon. There, now, I 
guess you can wait that long.” 

“ Oh, yes. You are so good and kind, and I’m so de- 
lighted ! ” said May, her face radiant with smiles. 

“ Oh, May, I want to caution you about one thing ! ” 
said William Lance, starting back, as he was about leaving 
the house. “ Don’t say anything about our intention of 
purchasing a machine to any one. If you do, we will be over- 
run, harassed to death, by these agents and their canvassers. 
They are so sharp ; they know every house in town where 
there is not a machine, and can tell by a single look at a 
person’s face whether he is thinking of getting one. There 
is Clover, who is almost every morning, as I pass, standing 
at his door. He wfill see what is on my mind now, sure ; 
and I should not be a bit surprised if he sends one of his 
chaps either here or to my office, before twelve o’clock ; and 
if he, or any one from his place, is seen entering, you may 
make up your mind to receiving calls from ten or a dozen 
others. Now don’t be making any inquiries on the sub- 
ject. I guess, to be on the safe side, you had better stay 
at home to-day.” 

“Very well; I’ll do anything to please you. And 
I should be sure to peep into every window where 
I saw a sewing-machine. But really, William, I think 
you are exaggerating. Just the idea of such a thing ! ” 

“ Well, don’t try to prove the truth of my words, please,” 
said William, as he closed the door. 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


363 


He had not been gone half an hour, when May’s partic- 
ular friend, Jennie Swift, came in, and said : 

“ Hurry on your walking-suit, May, and come down 
town with me; I am going to get some new machine 
needles.” 

“Indeed I cannot — particularly not into a sewing- 
machine establishment,” answered May. 

“Why not? What do you mean?” asked Jennie, in 
surprised tones. 

“ Why — well, I will tell you : William is going to give 
me a machine to-day, perhaps. He is going to look about 
and see which he likes. He says he does not want to be 
harassed by canvassers. I must not let it be known I’ve 
any idea of purchasing one. You ought to hear how 
he talks about them. So I’ve promised to stay home 
to-day, lest I should not be able to resist looking at and 
inquiring about the merits of different machines,” May 
said. 

u Oh, that is it ! Well, then, I must go. But, dear me ! 
what is the use of his looking around ? He can never find 
any better than the ‘ Inquiry.’ You know what beautiful 
work ours does. It is perfect in every way. Don’t decide 
until you try the * Inquiry.’ Tell your husband I know 
as much about sewing-machines as anybody, and he had 
better take my advice on the subject. Good-by, then ; I’ll 
come in again when Mr. Lance is home, and we will talk 
this over,” Jennie said. 

About noon May was thinking perhaps William might 
get an hour from the office, and see something about the 
machine, when the bell sounded, and very soon after the 
servant came in, saying : 

“ There’s a gentleman wishes to see you. He has got a 
sewing-machine in his wagon.” 


364 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


“ Oh, I’m so glad. How soon Will has sent it ! ” May 
exclaimed, going smiling to the door. 

“I have a machine here, madam,” began the polite 
young man, making a graceful bow. 

May interrupted whatever else he was about to say, 
with: 

“ Oh, yes. It is all right. Bring it in ; I am so anxious 
to see it. Mr. Lance ordered it, I suppose ? ” 

“ No, madam, he has not ordered it yet, but we hope and 
expect he will allow me to bring it in. You contemplate 
purchasing some machine, I believe?” said the good- 
looking, pleasant-speaking young man. 

May hesitated, scarce knowing how to send off such a 
very polite gentleman, and was really anxious to see the 
machine work. She demurred a little, but it ended of 
course in the machine being placed on trial in May’s sit- 
ting-room. And after the young man had fully impressed 
on May’s mind the great merit of his machine, he left, 
promising to call the next day and bring a young lady to 
give her instructions, if she wished, in operating on the 
“Inquiry.” Scarcely had he left, when again the bell 
sounded, and again May was called to the door, this time 
to meet an elderly, grave-looking old gentleman, who 
begged leave to be allowed to show her the “ Spokes and 
Wilboy ” machine. 

She told him she knew nothing about machines. Her 
husband was going to decide upon one, and as he was not 
at home, she could not act in the matter. 

“ Of course not, madam. Most certainly you are very 
right. But if you would allow me the privilege and 
great pleasure of showing you the beauties of our machine, 
I would be very grateful — ” 

“ But I have the ‘ Inquiry ’ here now, on trial,” said 
May. 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


365 


“Ah ! well, then surely you will allow an old man the 
same pleasure as you did the young one. If you will 
only give me a few moments, I will prove the advantages 
of the ‘Spokes and Wilboy’ over any and all other 
machines.” 

How could she he rude to such a venerable, dignified 
old man ? So in he and his machine went ; and after 
making the most of the best points of his machine, he took 
his departure. 

May was standing between the two machines, turning 
her gaze from one to the other, when again she heard the 
bell, and the girl, putting her head in, said: 

“Another machine, madam.” 

When May approached the door, she found this time 
her permission to enter was not wanted, for the man was 
in the act of lifting the machine out of the wagon. A few 
moments more, and he was beside her, asking : 

“ Where will you have it, madam? ” 

But ere she could answer, William came in, saying : 

“You are not much ahead of me. We will take it in 
here.” 

Opening the door, and taking hold of one end of 
the machine table, he backed into the sitting-room, 
and up against the “Inquiry.” Turning quickly, he 
asked : 

“Why, what is this? How came it here?” looking 
reproachfully at May. 

As she was about to answer, his eyes, in seeking a good 
position for the machine, fell on the other — the “ Spokes 
and Wilboy.” 

Another look at May, more reproachful than the other, 
and turning to the man, he said : 

“ You ask the young lady to come at four o’clock 


366 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


to-morrow afternoon. I should like to be present when 
she gives instructions.” 

The man went out, and then William turned to May, 
saying : 

“After all I said to you, to care so little for my caution. 
You promised me — ” 

“ Oh, Will, indeed I’ve not been outside of the door. I 
believe what you said was near the truth. Never even 
have I asked anybody one word about a machine,” May 
said. 

“ What ! Not been out ? ” asked William, in surprise. 

“ No, indeed.” 

“ Well, who has been here — that is, before those fellows 
with their machines ? ” 

“ No one. Oh, I forget — yes, early this morning Jennie 
came in, and wanted me to go down to the ‘ Inquiry’ 
agent’s. I told her why I could not — that I had promised 
you — ” 

“And, of course, that I had promised to get a ma- 
chine,” interrupted William, a little anger manifested in 
his tone. 

“ I did not think it was any harm to tell her” May said. 

“ No, nor she to tell Carter, the agent for the ‘ Inquiry ; * 
and somebody else thought it no harm to give the agent 
for this other one a chance. But why did you allow them 
to come in ? Why not have sent them off? ” 

“ Oh, Will, I never was rude to anybody in my own 
house. I don’t know how to be. Besides, the first young 
gentleman was so very polite ; and he said that his leaving 
it was a pleasure — I need not feel at all obliged to pur- 
chase it ; and if I would only allow him to bring it in just 
for a few moments, while he explained its merits, then he 
would remove it immediately, if I wished. But when he 
pointed out to me its superiority, I thought I had better 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


367 


let it stay until you saw it. He said it was the simplest 
in construction, more elegant in appearance, and most sub- 
stantial machinery, of any machine in the market — that 
they could not begin to supply the demand — ” 

“All humbuggery. Well, if you believed all this, why 
did you not send the next fellow off? ” 

“Oh, Will! Why, he was such a nice old gentleman, 
so dignified and pleasant. I could not possibly treat an 
aged person any way but kindly. And as I had listened 
to the young one, I felt bound to hear him. Well, he 
worked on this one, and told me how much lighter and 
better adapted it was to a lady’s use, and that the other 
was noisy and heavy ; how soon I should get tired when 
using it ; that I thought maybe I had better have you see 
the ‘ Spokes and Wilboy • ’ and indeed it does go so grace- 
fully, and scarcely any noise at all.” 

“ Yes. And when I was speaking to Clover about that 
machine, he told of what a confounded bother the bobbin, 
or tension, or feed was ; and they will all of them tell you 
the same story of what their machine is, and what others 
aren’t. This I have made up my mind to take is the 
1 Tinkle and Lamb.’ Clover says — I mean Barton says — I 
don’t mind a word those fellows say — that it is an excellent 
make. He is using one, and his folks like it better than 
several others they have tried. Now, when these fellows 
come, get them all off with their machines before I get 
home, please.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know how I shall. Politeness — ” 

“Very well, just have this room cleared out, for if 
you listen politely to those confounded bores, you’ll 
have the room full before to-morrow night,” snapped 
William. 

“Don’t be cross, Will. Indeed I could not help it. 
But listen. I want to ask you about the machine you 


368 A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 

like. Has it a double-shotted cam? That pleasant 
young man was telling me about the value of that. I 
wish you would explain it to me. I could not just 
understand it,” said May, trying to restore William’s 
usual good humor. 

“ I’ve a mind to try the value of a doubled fist , and see 
if it will not calm that very agreeable young man. I think 
some forcible measure should be taken to relieve people 
from these bores.” 

“ Suppose I consider the young lady you are anxious to 
be at home to receive, a bore ? And perhaps I might 
resent any ill usage of that young man. Now you had 
better be discreet,” said May, with an arch smile. 

William, laughing, followed May to the dining-room. 
A good dinner soon restored him to amiability. 

Jennie Swift came in during the evening, and tried to 
talk the “ Inquiry ” into William. But he remained firm 
in favor of the “ Tinkle and Lamb.” Between the three 
May found it impossible to decide. 

William again advised her having the room cleared of 
all furniture, to make room for the others he knew she 
would be too polite to order off, and was not a bit sur- 
prised when he returned the next afternoon to find three 
other machines. May gave her friend Jennie credit for 
these new additions, saying : 

“I know Jennie went or sent word to the different agen- 
cies just to have a little fun.” 

But William declared it was not so. “ Nothing but 
the sharpness and impudence of those canvassers,” he 
said. 

“ Well, have you decided which of the last three you 
like the best? ” Will asked. 

“ No, indeed ; I thought each perfect until another 
came.” 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 369 

“ Yes, of course ; just like the fickleness of woman. I 
am firm still in my opinion,” William said. 

“Yes, Will. But if you had heard the gentlemen talk, 
or rather if you had heard six good-looking young ladies 
talk of the particular merits of the different machines, you 
might be just as puzzled as I am. I did think I would 
not have the ‘ Flower ’ at any rate. But you see, here it 
is. The young man really was such a good talker, and for 
the time made me so sensible of the excellence of his ma- 
chine that I almost thought I had found the right one. 
Then next came the 1 Vocal.’ That young chap said he 
would not speak for his machine : it spoke for itself ; and 
he produced a circular, remarking that I would find that 
the first people of the country declared in favor of the 
1 Vocal.’ And indeed, Will, it is just perfect.” 

“ Well, then, if you had found a perfect one, what did 
you take another in for ? ” William asked. 

“ Dear me, Will, you are just as great a tease as any of 
the machine men. For the same reason I took you — ” 

“Took me in! Yes, that’s right,” interrupted Will, 
laughing. 

“No, you provoking fellow! Married you because I 
could not say No ; and I’m not going to try to. Now I 
shall just run away from the house for a week ; make a 
visit home, and leave you to send away all the machines 
but the one you choose to retain.” 

And, true to her word, May went. Poor William was 
truly in a pitiable and very embarrassing situation ; for 
the next afternoon, instead of six dreadful bores, came the 
same number of pleasant and good-looking young ladies 
to give instructions, all meeting at the same time, about 
four o’clock, after otfice hours. He listened to each, agreed 
with all, and so it ended by his hiring a wagon next morn- 


370 


A TRIAL OF PATIENCE. 


ing and sending all the machines off, being out of pocket 
just about three dollars. 

When May returned she was dreadfully disappointed. 
However, not many days passed before again came a young 
man, one of the same who had called before, and was per- 
haps more agreeable than ever, certainly more persevering, 
and succeeded in making a sale of the Blank machine — I 
shall call it, because it was not the one of May’s husband’s 
choice, or May’s either; but the canvasser is a smart young 
man, and proves that there is nothing like politeness and 
perseverance. 


THE END. 



CATALOGUE OF BOOKS 

PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS, 

PHILADELPHIA, PA. 


ANY OF THE BOOKS IN THIS CATALOGUE, NOT TO BE 
HAD OF YOUR BOOKSELLER, WILL BE SENT BY MAIL, 
POST-PAID, ON RECEIPT OF PRICE BY THE PUBLISHERS 


1 


Cheapest Book House in the Worn 

Is at the Publishing and Bookselling Establishment of 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

No. 306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 

am 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, are the American publishers of 
the popular and fast-selling books written by Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth, 
Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, Mrs. Caroline Lee IIkntz, Miss Eliza A. Dupuy, Mrs. C. 
A. Warfield, Mrs. Henry Wood, Q. K. P. Doesticks, Emerson Bennett, T. S. 
Arthur, George Lippard, Hans Breitmann (Charles G. Leland), James A. Mait- 
land, Charles Dickens, Sir Walter Scott, Charles Lever, Wilkie Collins, 
Mrs. C. J. Newby, Justus Liebig, W. H. Maxwell, Alexander Dumas, George 
W. M. Reynolds, Samuel Warren, Henry Cockton, Fredrika Bremer, T. 
Adolphus Trollope, Madame George Sand, Eugene Sue, Miss Pardoe, Frank 
Fairlegh, W. H. Ainsworth, Frank Forrester (Henry W. Herbert), Miss 
Ellen Pickering, Captain Marryatt, Mrs. Gray, G. P. R. James, Henry Mcr- 
ford, Gustave Aimard, and hundreds of other authors ; as well as of Dow’s Patent 
Sermons, Humorous American Books, and Miss Leslie’s, Miss Widdifif.ld’s, The 
Young Wife’s, Mrs. Goodfellow’s, Mrs. Hale’s, Petersons’, The National, 
Francatellls, The Family Save-All, Queen of the Kitchen, and all the best 
and popular Cook Books published. 

T. B. PETEKSON & BROTHERS take pleasure in calling the attention of the 
Entire Reading Community, as well as of all their Customers, and every B* nkseller, 
News Agent, and Book Buyer, as well as of the entire Book Trade everywhere, to 
the fact that they are now publishing a large number of cloth and paper-covered 
Books, in very attractive style, including a series of 25 cent, 50 cent, 75 cent, $1.00, 

.50, $1.75, and $2.00 Books, in new stylo covers and bindings, making them large 
books for the money, and bringing them before the Reading Public by liberal ad- 
vertising. They are new books, and are cheap editions of the most popular and most 
saleable books published, are written by the best American and English authors, and 
are presented in a very attractive style, printed from legible type, on good paper, 
and are especially adapted to suit all who love to read good books, as well as for all 
General Reading, and they will be found for sale by all Booksellers, and at Hotel 
Stands, Railroad Stations and in the Cars. They are in fact the most popular series 
of works of fiction ever published, retailing at 25 cents, 50 cents, 75 cents, $1.00, $1.50, 
$1.75, and $2.00 each, as they comprise the writings of the best and most popular 
authors in the world, all of which will bo sold by us to the trade at very low prices, 
and also at retail to everybody. Send for a Catalogue of these books at once. 

4SF* New books are issued by us every week, comprising the best and most enter* 
taining works published, suitable for the Parlor, Library, Sitting-Room, Railroad or 
Steamboat reading, and are written by the most popular and best writers in the world* 

43F* Enclose a draft for five, ten, twenty, fifty, or one hundred dollars, or more, to 
us in a letter, and write for what books you wish, and on receipt of the money, or a 
satisfactory reference, the books will be packed and sent to you at once, in any way 
you may direct, with circulars and show-bills of the books to post up. 

4®- We want every Bookseller, and every News Agent, everywhere, to sell our 
books, and to keep an assortment of them on hand, and to send to us at once for a 
copy of our New Illustrated Descriptive Catalogue, which look over carefully, mark- 
ing what books you may want, as it contains a list of all books published by us, all 
or any of which will bo sold by us to everybody in the Book Trade, to Booksellers, 
or to News Agents, at very low rates. There are no books published you can sell as 
many of, or make as much money on, as Petersons’, bend us on a trial order. 
All orders, largo or small, will he sent the day the order is received, and small 
orders will receive the same promptness and care as large orders. 

4®* All Books named in Petersons’ Catalogue will be found for sale by all Book* 
sellers, or copies of any one book, or more, or all of them, will be sent to any one at 
once, to any place, per mail, post-paid, or free of freight, on remitting the retail price 
of the books wanted to T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia. 

4®^ WANTED. — A Bookseller, News Agent, or Canvasser, in every city, town or 
village on this Continent, to engage in the sale of Petersons’ New and Popular 
Fast Selling Books, on w hich large sales, and large profits can be made. 

4®- Booksellers, Librarians, News Agents, Canvassers, Pedlers, and all other per* 
sons, who may w'ant any of Petersons’ Popular and Fast Selling Books, will pleas® 
address their orders and letters, at once, to meet with immediate attention, to 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 

IgiT Orders solicited from Booksellers, Librarians, News Agents, 
and all others in want of good and fast-selling books. ^jjji 


MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWQRTH’S WORKS. 

Complete in forty -three large duodecimo volumes , hound in morocco cloth, gilt back , 
price $1.75 each; or $75.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Phantom Wedding; or, The Fall of the House of Flint, $1 75 


Self-Raised; From the Depths..$l 75 

Ishmael ; or, In the Depths,.... I 75 

The Mother-in-Law, 1 75 

The Fatal Secret, 1 75 

How He Won Her, 1 75 

Fair Play, 1 75 

The Spectre Lover, 1 75 

Victor's Triumph, 1 75 

A Beautiful Fiend, 1 75 

The Artist’s Love, 1 75 

A Noble Lord, 1 75 

Lost Heir of Linlithgow, 1 75 

Tried for her Life, 1 75 

Cruel as the Grave, 1 75 

The Maiden Widow, 1 75 

The Family Doom, 1 75 

The Bride’s Fate, 1 75 

The Changed Brides, 1 75 

Fallen Pride, 1 75 

The Widow’s Son, 1 75 

The Bride of Llewellyn, 1 75 


The Fatal Marriage, 1 75 

The Deserted Wife, 1 75 

The Fortune Seeker, 1 75 

The Bridal Eve, 1 75 

The Lost Heiress, 1 75 

The Two Sisters, 1 75 

Lady of the Isle, 1 75 

Prince of Darkness, 1 75 

The Three Beauties, 1 75 

Vivia; or the Secret of Power, 1 75 

Love’s Labor Won, 3 75 

The Gipsy’s Prophecy, 1 75 

Retribution, 1 75 

The Christmas Guest, 1 75 

Haunted Homestead, 1 75 

Wife’s Victory, 1 75 

Allworth Abbey, 1 75 

India ; Pearl of Pearl River,.. 1 75 

Curse of Clifton, 1 75 

Discarded Daughter, 1 75 

The Mystery of Dark Hollow,.. 1 75 


The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the Avenger, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ WORKS. 

Complete in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back , 
price $1.75 each ; or $40.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Norston’s Rest, $1 75 

Bertha’s Engagement, 1 75 

Bellehood and Bondage, 1 75 

The Old Countess, 1 75 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 1 75 

The Reigning Belle, 1 75 

Palaces and Prisons, 1 75 

Married in Haste, 1 75 

Wives and Widows, 1 75 

Ruby Gray’s Strategy, 1 75 


The Soldiers’ Orphans, $1 75 

A Noble Woman, 1 75 

Silent Struggles, 1 75 

The Rejected Wife, 1 75 

The Wife’s Secret, 1 75 

Mary Derwent, 1 75 

Fashion and Famine, 1 75 

The Curse of Gold, 1 75 

Mabel’s Mistake, 1 75 

The Old Homestead, 1 75 

Doubly False,.... 1 75 | The Heiress,.... 1 75 | The Gold Brick,... 1 75 
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S WORKS. 

Complete in nine large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth , gilt back, price 
$1.75 each; or $15.75 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


The Household of Bouverie,....$l 75 

The Cardinal’s Daughter, 1 75 

Feme Fleming, 1 75 

A Double Wedding, 1 75 


Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 75 

Monfort Hall, 1 75 

Sea and Shore, 1 75 

Hester Howard’s Temptation,.. 1 75 


Lady Ernestine; or, The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa, (1) 


2 T. B. FETEESON & BEOTHEES’ PUBLICATIONS 


MES. CAEOLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 

Green and Gold Edition. Complete in twelve volumes, in green morocco clot\, 
price $ 1.76 each; or $ 21.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Ernest Linwood, $1 75 

The Planter’s Northern Bride,.. 1 75 

Courtship and Marriage, 1 75 

Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 75 

Marcus Warland, 1 75 


Love after Marriage, $1 75 

Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, 1 75 

The Lost Daughter,... 1 75 

The Banished Son, 1 75 

Helen and Arthur, 1 75 


Linda ; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 75 

Robert Graham; the Sequel to “ Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”... 1 75 
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

Every housekeeper should possess at least, one of the following Cook Books, as they 
would save the price of it in a week’s cooking. 

The Queen of the Kitchen. Containing 1007 Old Maryland 

Family Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, $1 75 

Miss Leslie’s New Cookery Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Hale’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Petersons’ New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Widdifield’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Goodfellow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 1 75 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 1 75 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 1 75 

The Family Save-All. By author of “National Cook Book,” Cloth, .1 75 

Francatelli’s Modern Cook. With the most approved methods of 
French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty-two 
Illustrations. One volume of 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00 

JAMES A. MAITLAND’S WORKS, 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes , bound in cloth , gilt lack, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


The Watchman, $1 75 

The Wanderer, 1 75 

The Lawyer’s Story, 1 75 


Diary of an Old Doctor, $1 75 

Sartaroe, 1 75 

The Three Cousins, 1 75 


The Old Patroon ; or the Great Yan Broek Property, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S WORKS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


^he Sealed Packet, $1 75 

Garstang Grange, 1 75 


Dream Numbers, $1 75 

Beppo, the Conscript, 1 75 


Leonora Casaloni,... 1 75 | Gemma, 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


EREDRIKA BREIIER’S WORKS. 

Complete in six large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 each ; 
or $ 10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 75 ! The Neighbors, $1 75 

The Four Sisters, 1 75 I The Home, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
fy T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B, PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 3 


MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY’S WORKS. 

Complete in fourteen large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
$1.75 each; or $24.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Why Did He Marry Her ? $1 75 


A New Way to Win a Fortune $1 75 

The Discarded Wife, L 75 

The Clandestine Marriage 1 75 

The Hidden Sin, 1 75 

The Dethroned Heiress, 1 75 

The Gipsy’s Warning, 1 75 

All For Love, 1 75 


Who Shall be Victor? 1 75 

The Mysterious Guest, 1 75 

Was He Guilty? 1 75 

The Cancelled Will, 1 75 

The Planter’s Daughter, 1 75 

Michael Rudolph, 1 75 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

EMERSON BENNETT’S WORKS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back , price $1.75 
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


put up 

Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75 

Ellen Norbury, 1 75 

Kate Clarendon, 1 75 


The Border Rover, $1 75 

Clara Moreland, 1 75 

The Orphan’s Trials, 1 75 

Viola ; or Adventures in the Far South-West, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 | The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 

D0ESTICK3’ WORKS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesticks’ Letters,.... $1 75 I The Elephant Club, $1 75 

Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 75 | Witches of New York, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

GREEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Gambling Exposed, $1 75 i Reformed Gambler, $1 75 

The Gambler’s Life 1 75 | Secret Band of Brothers, 1 75 

Above arc each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

BOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is pul up in a neat box. 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 1st Dow’s Patent Sermons, 3d 


Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 2d 
Series, cloth 1 50 


Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 4th 
Series, cloth, 1 50 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 

WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST WORKS. 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path..$l 50 | The Dead Secret. 12mo $1 50 

Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in eloth. 

The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 The Queen’s Revenge, 75 

Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 Miss or Mrs? 60 

Hide and Seek, 75 Mad Monkton, 50 

After Dark, 75 Sights a-Foot, 50 

The Stolen Mask, 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 25 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 

FRANK FORRESTER’S SPORTING BOOK. 

Frank Forrester’s Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry Wil- 
liam Herbert. With Illustrations by Darley. Two vols., cloth,. ..$4 00 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following hoolcs are each issued in one large duodecimo volume , 
bound in cloth , at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover , at $1.50 each. 

The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautphoeus, $1 75 

Married Beneath Him. By author of “ Lost Sir Massingberd,” 3 75 

Lost Sir Massingberd. By author of “ Married Beneath Him,” 1 75 

The ClyfFards of Clyffe, by author of “Lost Sir Massingberd,” 1 75 

Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Olipbant, author of “Zaidee,” 1 75 

Family Pride. By author of “Pique,” “ Family Secrets,” etc 1 75 

Self-Sacrifice. By author of “ Margaret Maitland,” etc 1 75 

The Woman in Black. A Companion to the “Woman in White,” ... 1 75 

A Woman’s Thoughts about Women. By Miss Mulocb, 1 75 

Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair, 1 75 

False Pride; or, Two Ways to Matrimony. A Charming Book, 1 75 

Hose Douglas. A Companion to “ Family Pride,” and “ Self Sacrifice,” 175 
Family Secrets. A Companion to “Family Pride,” and “Pique,”... 1 75 

The Heiress in the Family. By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniel, 1 75 

Popery Exposed. An Exposition of Popery as it was and is, 1 75 

The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Charming Novel, 1 75 

Woman’s Wrong. By Mrs. Eiloart, author of “St. Bede’s,” 1 75 

The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75 

A Lonely Life. By the author of “ Wise as a Serpent,” etc 1 75 

The Macdermots of Ballycloran. By Anthony Trollope, 1 75 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to “Linda,” 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 3 75 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 75 

My Son’s Wife. By author of “ Caste,” “ Mr. Arle,” etc 1 75 

fhe Rich Husband. By author of “George Geith,” 1 75 

llarem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emmeline Lott, 1 75 

The Rector’s Wife; or, the Valley of a Hundred Fires, 1 75 

Woodburn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt, 1 75 

Country Quarters. By the Countess of Blessington, 1 75 

^ut of the Depths. The Story of a “’Woman’s Life,” 1 75 

Phe Devoted Bride. A Story of the Heart. By St. George Tucker, 1 75 

The Coquette; or, the Life and Letters of Eliza Wharton, 1 75 

The Pride of Life. A Story of the Heart. By Lady Jane Scott,.... 1 75 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75 

My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75 

The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
The Man of the World. An Autobiography. By William North,... 1 75 
The Queen's Favorite ; or, The Price of a Crown. A Love Story,... 1 75 

Self Love ; or, The Afternoon of Single and Married Life, 3 75 

Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 
Cainors. “The Man of the Second Empire.” By Octave Feuillet,.. 1 75 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
Cora Belmont; or, The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the Heart,. 1 75 
The Lover’s Trials; or Days before 1776. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison, 1 75 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 

The Beautiful Widow; or, Lodore. By Mrs. Percy B. Shelley, 3 75 

Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the “ Rival Belles,”... 1 75 
The Matchmaker. A Story of High Life. By Beatrice Reynolds,.. 3 75 
The Brother’s Secret; or, the Count De Mara. By William Godwin, 1 75 
Jufe, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Rome and the Papacy. A History of the Men, Manners and Tempo- 
ral Government of Rome in the Nineteenth Century, 1 75 

Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 5 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover at $1.50 each . 
The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated, ...$1 75 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or cloth,.. 1 75 

Camille; or, the Fate of a Coquette. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “ Margaret Maitland,” 1 75 
The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert. A Roman Story, 1 75 

The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty, 1 75 

The Rival Belles; or, Life in Washington. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 

Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback, author of “ May and December,” 1 75 
Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 75 
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 75 

The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75 

The Refugee. By Herman Melville, author of “Omoo,” “ Typee,” 1 75 

The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late “ Fanny Fern,” 1 75 

The Life and Lectures of Lola Montez, with her portrait, 1 75 

Wild Southern Scenes. By author of ‘‘Wild Western Scenes,” 1 75 

Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 1 75 

The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 75 

The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey, 1 75 

Lizzie Glenn ; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur, 1 75 

Lady Maud; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 75 

Wilfred Montressor ; or, High Life in New York. Illustrated, 1 75 

The Old Stone Mansion. By C. J. Peterson, author “Kate Aylesford,” 1 75 
Kate Aylesford. By Chas. J. Peterson, author “ Old Stone Mansion,”. 1 75 

Lorrimer Littlegood, by author “ Harry Coverdale’s Courtship,” I 75 

The Earl’s Secret. A Love Story. By Miss Pardoe, 1 75 

The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe. author of “The Earl’s Secret,” 1 75 
Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 75 

Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 

Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author “ The Crossed Path,”... 1 50 

The Crossed Path ; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, 1 50 

Indiana. A Love Story. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” 1 50 
Jealousy ; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” etc. 1 50 
Six Nights with the Washingtonians, Illustrated. By T. S. Arthur, 3 60 

BOOKS FOR PRIVATE STUDY AND SCHOOLS. 

The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
Prose, designed for the use of Colleges, Schools, Seminaries, Literary 
Societies. By Philip Lawrence, Professor of Elocution. 600 pages..$2 00 
Comstock’s Elocution and Model Speaker. Intended for the use of 
Schools, Colleges, and for private Study, for the Promotion of 
Health, Cure of Stammering, and Defective Articulation. By An- 


drew Comstock and Philip Lawrence. With 236 Illustrations 2 00 

The French, German, Spanish. Latin and Italian Languages Without 
a Master. Whereby any one of these Languages can be learned 

without a Teacher. By A. H. Monteith. One volume, cloth 2 00 

Comstock’s Colored Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the Eng- 
lish Language, Graphic and Typic, with exercises in Pitch, Force 
and Gesture, and Sixty-Eight colored figures, representing the va- 
rious postures and different attitudes to be used in declamation. 

On a large Roller. Every School should have a copy of it...... 5 00 

Liebig’s Complete Works on Chemistry. By Baron Justus Liebig... 2 00 


g&r Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


6 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following hooks are each issued in one large duodecimo volume , 
hound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

Rose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., $1 75 

The Conscript; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Ales. Dumas,.... 1 75 
Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of “ The Gambler’s Wife,” etc. 1 75 
Saratoga. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. A true Story of 1787,.. 1 75 

Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 1 75 

Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of “ Days of Shoddy,” 1 75 
Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 

The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 

The Cavalier. By G. P. R. James, author of “Lord Montagu’s Page," 1 75 
Lord Montagu’s Page. By G. P. R. James, author of “Cavalier,”... 1 75 
Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth’s Popular Novels. 42 vols. in all, 73 50 


Mrs. Ann S. Stephens’ Celebrated Novels. 22 volumes in all, 38 50 

Mrs. C. A. Warfield’s Works. Nine volumes in all, 15 75 

Miss Eliza A. Dupuy’s Works. Fourteen volumes in all, 24 50 

Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz’s Novels. Twelve volumes in all, 21 00 

Frederika Bremer’s Novels. Six volumes in all, 10 50 

T. A. Trollope’s Works. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 

James A. Maitland’s Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 

Q. K. Philander Doestick’s Novels. Four volumes in all, 7 03 

Cook Books. The best in the world. Eleven volumes in all, 19 25 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 75 

Emerson Bennett’s Novols. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 

Green’s Works on Gambling. Four volumes in all, 7 0# 


Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


The following hooks are each issued in one large octavo volume , hound in 
cloth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done up in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Wandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, $2 00 

Mysteries of Paris ; and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue,.... 2 00 

Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 2 00 

Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 2 00 

Washington and His Generals. By George Lippard..., 2 00 

The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Paul Ardenheim; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 

The Pictorial Tower of Loudon. By W. Harrison Aiusworth, 2 50 

Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


The following are each issued in one large octavo volume , hound in cloth, price $2.00 
each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at lb cents each. 


Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth, $2 00 

Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever,... Cloth, 2 00 

Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Davenport Punn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever, ...Cloth, 2 00 

Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever. Cloth, 2 00 

The Knight of Gwynne. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Arthur O’Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Kate O’Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Valentine Yox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at 75 cents each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Erothers, Philadelphia, Fa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 7 


NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

Beautiful Snow, and Other Poems. New Illustrated Edition. By J. 

W. Watson. With Illustrations by E. L. Henry. One volume, green 
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morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., $3 00 

The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watson. One volume, 
green morocco cloth, gilt top, side and back, price $2.00 ; or in ma- 
roon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, ... 3 00 
The Young Magdalen; and Other Poems. By Francis S. Smith, 
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Complete in one largo volume of 300 pages, bound in green mo- 
rocco cloth, gilt top, side, and back, price $3.00; or in maroon 
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taining the “ First,” “ Second ,” and “ Third Series ” of the “ Brext- 

mann Ballads ,” bound in morocco cloth, gilt, beveled boards, 3 00 

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Hans Breitmann’s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Being the above 
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Historical Sketches of Plymouth, Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 

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John Jasper’s Secret. A Sequel to Charles Dickens’ “Mystery of 

Edwin Drood.” With 18 Illustrations. Bound in cloth, 2 00 

The Last Athenian. From the Swedish of Victor Rydberg. Highly 
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Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 

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The Ladies’ Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
Miss Leslie. Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back.... 1 75 
The Ladies’ Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 

113 illustrations. By Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back, 1 75 

The Ladies’ Work Table Book. With 27 illustrations. Cloth, gilt,. 1 50 
The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, paper $1.00, or cloth,,.. 1 50 
Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols.. cloth, each.... 1 50 
Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicy Book. By T. B. Witmer, cloth,... 1 50 
Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Ilentz, author of 

“ Linda,” etc. Full of Illustrations, and bound in cloth, 1 50 

Hollick’s Anatomy and Physiology of the Human Figure. Illustrated 
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Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho Panza, 
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Riddell’s Model Architect. With 22 large full page colored illus- 
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NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. ' 

Treason at Home. A Novel. By Mrs. Greenough, cloth, $1 75 

Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in cloth, 1 75 

Frank Fairleigh. By author of “ Lewis Arundel,” cloth, 1 75 

Lewis Arundel. By author of “ Frank Fairleigh/’ cloth, 1 75 

Moore’s Life of Hon. Schuyler Colfax, with a Portrait on steel, cloth, 1 50 

Whitefriars; or, The Days of Charles the Second. Illustrated, 1 00 

Tan-go-ru-a. An Historical Drama, in Prose. By Mr. Moorhead,.... 1 00 

The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth, 1 50 

Trial of the Assassins for the Murder of Abraham Lincoln. Cloth,... 1 50 
Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 75 

Consuelo, and Countess of Rudolstadt. One volume, cloth, 2 00 

Monsieur Antoine. By George Sand. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 00 
Aurora Floyd. By Miss Braddon. One vol., paper 75 cents, cloth,... 1 00 
Christy and White’s Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 00 

The Life of Charles Dickens. By R. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, 2 00 

The Life of Edwin Forrest; with Reminiscences and Personal Recol- 
lections. By Colley Cibber. With a Portrait and Autograph, 2 00 

Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, fine binding, 5 00 

Life of Sir Walter Scott. By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait, 2 50 

The Shakspeare Novels. Complete in one large octavo volume, cloth, 4 00 
Miss Pardoe’s Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 
The Waverley Novels. National Edition. Five large 8vo. vols., cloth, 15 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. People’s 12 mo. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 34 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Green Cloth \2mo. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 44 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Illustrated 12»io. Edition. 30 vols., cloth, 55 00 
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HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATED WORKS. 

Each one is full of Illustrations, by Felix O. C. Earley, and bound in Cloth. 

Major Jones’ Courtship and Travels. With 21 Illustrations, ...$1 75 

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Simon Suggs’ Adventures and Travels. With 17 Illustrations, 1 75 

Swamp Doctor’s Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 75 

Col. Thorpe’s Scenes in Arkansaw. With 16 Illustrations, 1 75 

The Big Bear’s Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations, 1 75 

High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 75 

Judge Jlaliburton’s Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 75 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, 1 75 

Piney Wood’s Tavern; or, Sam Slick in Texas. Illustrated, 1 75 

Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Humors of Falconbridge. By J. F. Kelley. With Illustrations, ... 1 75 

Modern Chivalry. By Judge Breckenridge. Two vols., each 1 75 

Neal’s Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 60 

MADAME GEOEGE SAND’S WORKS. 

Consuelo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 J Jealousy, 12mo. cloth, $1 50 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 1 Indiana, 12mo., cloth, 1 50 

Above are only published in 12mo., cloth, gilt side and back. 
Fanchon, the Cricket, price §1.00 in paper, or in cloth, 1 50 

Simon. A Love Story, 50 ! The Last Aldini 50 

Monsieur Antoine. With 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 
Consuelo and Countess of Rudolstadt, octavo, cloth, 2 00 


Above Books will be sont, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. # 


DUMAS’, REYNOLDS’, AND OTHER BOOKS IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of the following good books, and they art 
each issued in one large volume , bound in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

The Three Guardsmen ; or. The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dumas, $1 75 
Twenty Years After; or the “Second Series of Three Guardsmen ,” ... 1 75 
Bragelonnc; Son of Athos ; or “ Third Series of Three Guardsmen ,” 1 75 
The Iron Mask ; or the “ Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen,” .... 1 75' 
Louise La Valliere; or the “ Fifth Series and End of the Three 

Guardsmen Series,” 1 75 

The Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Queen’s Necklace; or “ Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician” 1 75 
Six Years Later; or the “ Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Countess of Charny; or “Fourth Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Andree De Taverney ; or “ Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
The Chevalier; or the “ Sixth Series and, End of the Memoirs of a 

Physician Series,” 1 75 

The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas 1 75 

Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the “ Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 

The Forty-Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 75 
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author “Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 
The Mysteries of the Court of London. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Rose Foster; or the “ Second Series of Mysteries of Court of London,” 1 75 
Caroline of Brunswick ; or the “ Third Series of the Court of London,” 1 75 
VenetiaTrelawney; or “ End of the Mysteries of the Court of London,” 1 75 

Lord Saxondale; or the Court of Queen Victoria. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Count Christoval. Sequel to “ Lord Saxondale.” By Reynolds, 1 75 

Rosa Lambert; or Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. By Reynolds, 1 75 
Mary Price; or the Adventures of a Servant Maid. By Reynolds,... 1 75 
Eustace Quentin. Sequel to “Mary Price.” By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Joseph Wilmot; or the Memoirs of a Man Servant. By Reynolds,... 1 75 

Banker’s Daughter. Sequel to “Joseph Wilmot.” By Reynolds, 1 75 

Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Rye-House Plot; or the Conspirator’s Daughter. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Necromancer; or the Times of Henry the Eighth. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Within the Maze. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,”. 1 75 
Dene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Within the Maze,” 1 75 
Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ The Channings,”.... 1 75 
George Canterbury’s Will. By Mrs. Wood, author “Oswald Cray,” 1 75 
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Dene Hollow,”... 1 75 

Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Channings.” By Mrs. Wood, 1 75 

Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Bessy Rane,” 1 75 

Lord Oakburn’s Daughters ; or The Earl’s Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,... 1 75 
Verner’s Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “The Channings,” 1 75 
The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Roland Yorke,”.... 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood 1 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of “Verner’s Pride,”... 1 75 
Elster’s Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Castle’s Heir,”... 1 75 
St. Martin’s Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Dene Hollow,” 1 75 
Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,”.... 1 75 
Cyrilla; or the Mysterious Engagement. By author of “ Initials,” 1 75 

The Miser’s Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, 1 75 

The Mysteries of Florence. By Geo. Lippard, author “ Quaker City,” 1 75 


l^ 0 Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price# 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

Mjf GEEAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES. 


PEOPLE’S DUODECIMO EDITION. ILLUSTRATED. 

Reduced in price from $2.50 to $1.50 a volume. 

This edition is printed on fine paper, from large, clear type, leaded, that 
all can read, containing Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $1.50 

Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 1.50 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 1.50 

Great Expectations, Cloth, 1.50 

David Copperfield, Cloth, 1.50 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 1.50 

Bleak House, Cloth, 1.50 

A Tale of Two Cities,. ..Cloth, 1.50 


Little Dorrit, Cloth, 

Dotnbey and Son, Cloth, 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 

Sketches by “ Boz,” Cloth, 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 

Dickens’ New Stories,.. Cloth, 


$1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

2.00 

2.00 


Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey’s Clock, ...... Cloth, 

American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller, Cloth, 

Hunted Down; and other Reprinted Pieces, Cloth, 

The Holly-Tree Inn; and other Stories, Cloth, 

The Life and Writings of Charles Dickens, Cloth, 

John Jasper’s Secret. Sequel to Mystery of Edwin Drood,... Cloth, 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in twenty-two volumes, $34.00 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 45.00 

“ “ Half calf, sprinkled edges, 56.00 

“ “ Half calf, marbled edges, 61.50 

u “ Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, etc. 66. U0 

GREEN MOROCCO CLOTH, DUODECIMO EDITION. 

This is the “People? 8 Duodecimo Edition” in a new style of Binding, in 
Green Morocco Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Pull Gilt descriptive bach, and 
Medallion Portrait on sides in gilt, in Twenty-two handy volumes, \2nio., 
fine paper, large clear type, and Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. 
Price $44 a set, and each set put up in a neat and strong box. This is 
the handsomest and best edition ever ptublished for the price. 

ILLUSTRATED DUODECIMO EDITION. 

Reduced in price from $2.00 to $1.50 a volume. 

Th is edition is printed on the finest paper, from large, clear type, leaded, 
that all can read, containing Six Hundred full page Illustrations, on 
tinted paper, from designs by Cruikshanh , Phiz, Broicne, Maclise, 
McLenan , and other artists. This is the only edition published that con- 
tains all the original illustrations, as selected by Mr. Charles Dickens. 
The following are each contained in two volumes. 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $3.00 

Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 3.00 

Tale of Two Cities Cloth, 3.00 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 3.00 

David Copperfield, Clo^h, 3.00 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 3.00 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 3.00 


Bleak House, Cloth, $3.00 

Sketches by “ Boz,” Cloth, 3.00 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 3.00 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 3.00 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 3.00 

Little Dorrit, Cloth, 3.00 

Dombey and Son, Cloth, 3.00 


The following are. each complete in one volume. 

Great Expectations $1.50 | Dickens’ New Stories, ...Cloth, $1.50 

Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey’s Clock,. ...Cloth, 1.50 

American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller, Cloth, 1.50 

Hunted Down : and other Reprinted Pieces, Cloth, 1.50 

The Holly-Tree Inn; and other Stories, Cloth, 1.50 

The Life and Writings of Charles Dickens, Cloth, 2.00 

John Jasper’s Secret. Sequel to Mystery of Edwin Drood, ...Cloth, 2.00 

Price of a oe* in thirty-six volumes, bound in cloth, $55.00 

“ * Full sheep, Library style, 74.00 

* “ Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, etc. 103.00 

(--•) 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS, 

4®*GREAT .REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES.'^ 


ILLUSTRATED OCTAVO EDITION. 

Reduced in price f rom $2.50 to $1.75 a volume. 

This edition is printed from large type, double column, octavo page, each 
book being complete in one volume, the whole containing near Six Hundred 
Illustrations, by Gruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Muclise, and other artists. 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $1.75 

Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 1.75 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 1.75 

Great Expectations, Cloth, 1.75 

Lamplighter’s Story,.. ..Cloth, 1.75 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 1.75 

Bleak House, Cloth, 1.75 

Little Dorrit, Cloth, 1.75 

Dombey and Son, Cloth, 1.75 

Sketches by “ Boz,” Cloth, 1.75 


David Copperfield, Cloth, $1.75 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 1.75 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 1.75 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 1.75 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 1.75 

Dickens’ New Stories, ...Cloth, 1.75 
A Tale of Two Cities, ...Cloth, 1.75 
American Notes and 

Pic-Nie Papers, Cloth, 1.75 


Price of a set, in Black cloth, in eighteen volumes, $31.50 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 40.00 

“ u Half calf, sprinkled edges, 48.00 

“ “ Half calf, marbled edges, 54.00 

“ “ Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 60.00 

“NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 

This is the cheapest bound edition of the works of Charles Dickens, pub- 
lished, all his writings being contained in seven large octavo volumes , 
with a portrait of Charles Dickens, and other illustrations. 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in seven volumes, $20.00 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 25.00 

“ u Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 30.00 

CHEAP PAPER COVER EDITION OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 


Each book being complete 

Pickwick Papers, 50 

Nicholas Nickleby, 50 

Dombey and Son, 50 

Our Mutual Friend, 50 

David Copperfield, 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit, 50 

Old Curiosity Shop, 50 

Oliver Twist 50 

American Notes, 25 

Hard Times, 25 

A Tale of Two Cities, 25 

Somebody’s Luggage, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy, 25 

Mugby Junction, 25 

Dr. Marigold’s Prescriptions,... 25 

Mystery of Edwin Drood, 25 

Message from the Sea, 25 

Hunted Down; and Other Reprinted 


in one large octavo volume. 

Bleak House, 50 

Little Dorrit, 50 

Christmas Stories, 50 

Barnaby Rudge, 50 

Sketches by “Boz,” 50 

Great Expectations, 50 

Joseph Grimaldi, 50 

The Pie-Nic Papers, 50 

The Haunted House, 25 

Uncommercial Traveller, 25 

A House to Let, 25 

Perils of English Prisoners, 25 

Wreck of the Golden Mary, 25 

Tom Tiddler’s Ground, 25 

Dickens' New Stories, 25 

Lazy Tour Idle Apprentices, 25 

The Holly-Tree Inn, 25 

No Thoroughfare, 25 

Pieces, 50 


THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DICKENS. 

THE LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS. By Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie, 
containing a full history of his Life, his Uncollected Pieces, in Prose 
and Verse; Personal Recollections and Anecdotes; His Last Will in 
full; and Letters from Mr. Dickens never before published. WitJ 
a Portrait and Autograph of Charles Dickens. Price $2.00. (II) 


12 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WORKS. 


Count of Monte-Cristo, $1 50 

Edmond Dantes, 75 

The Three Guardsmen, 75 

Twenty Years After, 75 

Bragelonne, 75 

The Iron Mask 1 00 

Louise La Calliere, 1 00 

Diana of Meridor, 1 00 

Adventures of a Marquis, 1 00 

Love and Liberty, ( 1792— ’93 ) .. 1 50 


Memoirs of a Physician, $1 

Queen's Necklace, 1 

Six Years Later, 1 

Countess of Charny, 1 

Andree de Taverney,.. 1 

The Chevalier, 1 

Forty-five Guardsmen, 1 

The Iron Hand, 1 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 ' 


The Conscript, 1 50 

Countess of Monte-Cristo, 1 00 

50 


Camille ; or, The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Camelias,) 1 

The above are each iu paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


The Mohicans of Paris, 75 

The Horrors of Paris, 75 

The Fallen Angel 75 

Felina de Chambure, 75 

Sketches in France, 75 

Isabel of Bavaria, 75 

Twin Lieutenants 75 

Man with Five Wives, 75 


75 


Annette ; or, Lady of Pearls,... 

George; or, Isle of France, 50 

Madame De Chamblay 50 

The Black Tulip, 50 

The Corsican Brothers, 50 

The Count of Moret,.... 50 

The Marriage Verdict, 50 

Buried Alive, 25 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS. 


Mysteries Court of London,. ...$1 00 

Rose Foster, 1 50 

Caroline of Brunswick, 1 00 

Venetia Trelawney, 1 00 

Lord Saxondale, 1 00 

Count Christoval, 1 00 

Rosa Lambert, 1 00 

Wallace, the Hero of Scotland,. 1 00 


Mary Price, $1 

Eustace Quentin, 1 

Joseph Wilmot,., 1 

Banker’s Daughter, 1 

Kenneth, 1 

The Rye-House Plot, 1 

The Necromancer, 1 

The Gipsy Chief, 1 

The Mysteries of the Court of Naples, full of Illustrations 1 

Robert Bruce, the Hero King of Scotland, full of Illustrations, 1 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 


Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots,.. 75 

The Opera Dancer, 75 

Child of Waterloo, 75 

Isabella Vincent, 75 

Vivian Bertram, 75 

Countess of Lascelles, 75 

Duke of Marchmor.t, 75 

Massacre of Glencoe, 75 

Loves of the Harem, 75 

The Soldier’s Wife, 75 


Ellen Percy, 75 

Agnes Evelyn, 75 

Pickwick Abroad, 75 

Parricide, 75 

Discarded Queen, 75 

Life in Paris, 50 

The Countess and the Page,.... 50 

Edgar Montrose, 50 

The Ruined Gamester, 50 

Clifford and the Actress, 50 


May Middleton, 75 

Ciprina; or, the Mysteries and Secrets of a Picture Gallery, 50 

MISS PARDOE’S POPULAR WORKS. 


The Rival Beauties, 75 

Romance of the Harem, 75 


Confessions of a Pretty Woman, 75 

The Wife’s Trials, 75 

The Jealous Wife, 50 

The five above books are also bound in one volume, cloth, for $4.00. 

The Adopted Heir. One volume, paper, $1.50; or in cloth, $1 75 

The Earl’s Secret. One volume, paper, $1.50 ; or in cloth, 1 75 


Above books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Petorson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 13 


CHARLES LEVER’S BEST WORKS. 


Charles O’Malley, 75 

Harry Lorrequer, 75 

Jack Ilinton, 75 

Tom Burke of 0ur3, 75 

Knight of Gwynne, 75 


Arthur O’Leary, 75 

Con Cregan, 75 

Davenport Dunn, 75 

Horace Templeton, 75 

Kate O’Donoghue, 75 


Above are in paper cover, or a fine edition is in cloth at $2.00 each. 

A Rent in a Cloud, 50 | St. Patrick’s Eve, 50 

Ten Thousand a Year, in one volume, paper cover, $1.50; orin cloth, 2 CO 
The Diary of a Medical Student, by author “ Ten Thousand a Year,” 75 

MRS. HENRY WOOD’S BEST BOOKS. 


The Master of Greylands, $1 50 

Within the Maze, 1 50 

Dene Hollow, 1 50 

Bessy Rane 1 50 

George Canterbury’s Will, 1 50 

Verner’s Pride, 1 50 

The Channings, 1 50 


The Shadow of Ashlydyat, $1 50 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir, 1 50 

Oswald Cray, 1 50 

Mildred Arkell, 1 50 

The Red Court Farm, 1 50 

Els ter ’s Folly, 1 50 

Saint Martin’s Eve, 1 50 


Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Chanuings,” 1 50 

Lord Oakburn’s Daughters ; or, The Earl’s Heirs, 1 50 

The Castle’s Heir ; or, Lady Adelaide’s Oath, 1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


The Mystery, 75 

The Lost Bank Note, 50 

The Lost Will, 50 

Orville College, 50 

Five Thousand a Year, 25 

The Diamond Bracelet, 25 

Clara Lake’s Dream, 25 

The Nobleman’s Wife, 25 

Frances Hildyard, 25 


A Life’s Secret, 50 

The Haunted Tower, 50 

The Runaway Match, 25 

Marty n Ware’s Temptations,.. 2i 

The Dean of Denham,.. 25 

Foggy Night at Offord, 25 

William Allair, 25 

A Light and a Dark Christmas, 25 

The Smuggler’s Ghost, 25 


EUGENE SUE’S GREAT WORKS. 


The Wandering Jew, $1 50 

The Mysteries of Paris, 1 50 

Martin, the Foundling, 1 50 

Above are in cloth at $2.00 each. 


First Love, 

Woman’s Love, 

Female Bluebeard,., 
Man-of-War’s-Man, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

25 


Life and Adventures of Raoul de Surville. A Tale of the Empire,. 

CHARLES J. PETERSON’S WORKS. 

The Old Stone Mansion, ..$1 50 1 Kate Aylesford, $1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

Cruising in the Last War 75 I Grace Dudley; or, Arnold at 

Valley Farm, 25 I Saratoga, 50 


WILLIAM H. MAXWELL’S WORKS. 

Wild Sports of the West, 75 I Brian O’Lynn, 75 

Stories of Waterloo, 75 I Life of Grace O’Malley, 50 

MISS BRADDON’S WORKS. 

Aurora Floyd, 75 I The Lawyer’s Secret 25 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 | For Better, For Worse, 75 


6§T Above books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


14 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS. 


Beautifully Illustrated 


Major tones’ Courtship, 75 

Major Jones’ Travels, 76 

Simon Suggs’ Adventures and 

Travels, 75 

Major Jones’ Chronicles of 

Pineville, 75 

Polly Peablossom’s Wedding,.. 75 

Mysteries of the Backwoods,... 75 

Widow Rugby’s Husband, 75 

Big Bear of Arkansas 75 

Western Scenes j or, Life on 

the Prairie, 75 

Streaks of Squatter Life, 75 

Pickings from the Picayune,... 75 

Stray Subjects, Arrested and 

Bound Over, 75 

Louisiana Swamp Doctor, 75 

Charcoal Sketches, 75 

Misfortunes of Peter Faber,.... 75 

Yankee among the Mermaids,.. 75 

New Orleans Sketch Book, 75 


by Felix 0. C. Barley. 

Drama in Pokerville, 

The Quorndon Hounds, 

My Shooting Box 

Warwick Woodlands, 

The Deer Stalkers, 

Peter Ploddy, 

Adventures of Captain Farrago, 
Major O’Regan’s Adventures,.. 
Sol. Smith’s Theatrical Appren- 
ticeship, 

Sol. Smith’s Theatrical Jour- 
ney-Work, 

The Quarter Race in Kentucky, 

Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag, 

Percival Mayberry’s Adven- 
tures and Travels, 

Sam Slick’s Yankee Yarns and 

Yankee Letters, 

Adventures of Fudge Fumble,. 

American Joe Miller, 

Following the Drum, 


7S 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

50 

50 


FRANK FAIRLEGH’S WORKS. 

Frank Fairlegh, 75 I Harry Racket Scapegrace, 75 

Lewis Arundel, 75 I Tom Racquet, 75 

Finer editions of the above are also issued in cloth, at $1.75 each. 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship, 1 50 | Lorrimer Littlegood, 1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

The Colville Family. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” 50 


WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH’S WORKS. 


Life of Jack Sheppard, 50 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 75 

Court of the Stuarts, 75 

Windsor Castle, 75 

The Star Chamber, 75 

Old St. Paul’s, 75 

Court of Queen Anne, 50 


Life of Dick Turpin, 50 

Life of Davy Crockett, 50 

Life of Grace O’Malley, 50 

Desperadoes of the NewWorld, 60 

Life of Henry Thomas, 25 

Life of Ninon De L’Enclos,..., 25 

Life of Arthur Spring, 25 

The Tower of London, with 93 illustrations, paper cover, 1.50, cloth, 2 50 

The Miser’s Daughter, paper cover, 1.00, or in cloth, 1 75 

Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes, in one volume, cloth, 1 75 

MISS ELLEN PICKERING’S WORKS. 

The Grumbler, 75 I Kate Walsingham, 50 

Marrying for Money, 75 Orphan Niece, 50 

Poor Cousin, 50 ■ Who Shall be Heir? 38 

The Squire, 38 | Ellen Wareham, 38 | Nan Darrel, 38 


SAMUEL WARREN’S BEST BOOKS. 

Ten Thousand a Year, paper, ..$1 50 i The Diary of a Medical Stu- 
Ten Thousand a Year, cloth,... 2 00 | dent, 75 


3^* Above Books will bo sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


__ T. B. PETEESON & BEOTHEES’ PUBLICATIONS. 16 
T. S. ARTHUR'S HOUSEHOLD NOVELS. 


The Lost Bride, 50 

The Two Brides, 50 

Lc.ve in a Cottage, 50 

Love in High Life, 50 

Year after Marriage, 50 

The Lady at Home, 50 

Cecelia Howard, 50 

Orphan Children, 50 

debtor’s Daughter, 50 

Mary Moreton, 50 


The Divorced Wife, 55 

Pride and Prudence, 50 

Agues; or, the Possessed, 50 

Lucy Sandford, 50 

The Banker ’ 8 Wife, 50 

The Two Merchants, 50 

Trial and Triumph, ..** 50 

The Iron Rule, 50 

Insubordination; or, the Shoe- 
maker’s Daughters, 50 


Six Nights with the Washingtonians; and other Temperance Tales. 

By T. S. Arthur. With original Illustrations, by George Cruik- 
shank. One large octavo volume, bound in beveled boards, price.. .53.50 
Lizzy Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. Cloth 51.75; or paper, 1.60 

MRS. GREY’S CELEBRATED NOVELS. 

Cousin Harry, $1 50 | The Little Beauty, $1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.76 each. 


A Marriage in High Life, 50 

Gipsy’s Daughter 50 

Old Dower House, 50 

Belle of the Family, 5ft 

Duke and Cousin, 50 

The Little Wife, 50 

Lena Cameron, 50 

Sybil Lennard, 50 

Manoeuvring Mother 50 


The Baronet's Daughters, 50 

Young Prima Donna, 50 

Hyacinthe, 25 

Alice Seymour 25 

Mary Seaham, 75 

Passion and Principle, 75 

The Flirt, 75 

Good Society, 75 

Lion-Hearted, 75 


G. P. R. JAMES’S BEST BOOKS. 

Lord Montague’s Page,.?! $1 50 | The Cavalier,.., ...$I 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

Th<i Man in Black, 75 I Arrah Neil, 75 

Mary of Burgundy, 75 I Eva St. Clair, 50 


CAPTAIN MARRYATT’S WORKS. 


Ja< ob Faithful, 

Japhet in Search of a Father,.. 

Phantom Ship 

Midshipman Easy 

Pacha of Many Tales, 

Frank Mildmay, Naval Officer, 
Snarleyow, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 


Newton Forster, 

King’s Own, 

Pirate and Three Cutters,. 

Peter Simple, 

Percival Keene, 

Poor Jack, 

Sea King, 


50 

60 

50 

50 

50 

50 

60 


REVOLUTIONARY TALES. 


The Brigand 

Ralph Runnion 

Seven Brothers of Wyoming,.. 

The Rebel Bride, 

The Flying Artillerist, 

Wau-nan-gee, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

60 

60 


Old Put; or. Days of 1776,, 

Legends of Mexico, 

Grace Dudley 

The Guerilla Chief, 

The Quaker Soldier, paper,, 
do. do. cloth,, 


50 
50 
50 
75 
1 50 
1 75 


J. F. SMITH’S WORKS. 


The Usurer's Victim; or, I Adelaide Waldegrnve: or, the 
Thomas Balscombe, 75 I Trials of a Governess, 


75 


Above books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Trice* 
by T. B. Peterson & Erothors, Philadelphia, Pa. 


18 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS, 


GEORGE LIPPAR] 

The Quaker City, $1 50 

Paul Ardenheim, 1 50 

Blanche of Brandy wine, 1 50 

Washington and his Generals; 
or, Legends of the American 

Revolution, 1 50 

Mysteries of Florence, 1 00 

Above in cloth at $2.00 each. 

EXCITING 

Adventures of Ben Brace, 75 

Jack Adams, the Mutineer,.... 75 

Jack Ariel's Adventures, 75 

Petrel ; or, Life on the Ocean,. 75 

Life of Paul Periwinkle, 75 

Life of Tom Bowling, 75 

Percy Effingham, 75 

Cruising in the Last War, 75 

Red King, 50 

The Corsair, 50 

The Doomed Ship, 50 

The Three Pirates, 50 

The Flying Dutchman, 50 

The Flying Yankee, 50 

The Yankee Middy, 50 

The Gold Seekers, 50 

The King’s Cruisers, 50 

Life of Alexander Tardy, 50 

Re 1 Wing, 50 

Yankee Jack, 50 

Yankees in Japan, 50 

Morgan, the Buccaneer, 50 

Jaflk Junk, 50 

Dalis, the Pirate, 50 

VaJdez, the Pirate, 50 

MILITARY NOVELS. 

With Illuminated Milita 

Charles O’Malley, 75 

Jack Hinton, the Guardsman, 75 

The Knight of Gwynne, 75 

Harry Lorrequer, 75 

Tom Burke of Ours, 75 

Arthur O’Leary, 75 

Con Cregan, 75 

Kate O’Donoghue, 75 

Horace Templeton, 75 

Davenport Dunn, 75 

Jack Adams’ Adventures, 75 

Valentine Vox, 75 

Twin Lieutenants, 75 

Stories of Waterloo, 75 

The Soldier’s Wife, 75 

Guerilla Chief, 75 


1’S GREAT BOOKS. 

The Empire City, 75 

Memoirs of a Preacher, 75 

The Nazarene, r 75 

Washington and his Men, 75 

Legends of Mexico, 60 

The Entranced, 25 

The Robbers, 25 

The Bank Director’s Son, 25 

;ea tales. 

Gallant Tom, 50 

Harry Helm, 50 

Harry Tempest, 60 

Rebel and Rover, 50 

Man-of-War’s-Man, 50 

Dark Shades of City Life, 25 

The Rats of the Seine, 25 

Charles Ransford, 25 

The Iron Cross, 25 

The River Pirates, 25 

The Pirate’s Son, 25 

Jacob Faithful, 50 

Phantom Ship, 50 

Midshipman Easy, 50 

Pacha of Many Tales, 50 

Naval Officer, 50 

Snarleyow, 50 

Newton Forster, 50 

King’s Own, 50 

Japhet, 50 

Pirate and Three Cutters, 50 

Peter Simple, 50 

Percival Keene, 50 

Poor Jack,... 50 

Sea King, 50 

BY BEST AUTHORS. 

ry Covers, in five Colors. 

The Three Guardsmen, 75 

Twenty Years After, 75 

Bragelonne, Son of Athos, 75 

Tom Bowling’s Adventures,... 75 

Life of Robert Bruce, 75 

The Gipsy Chief, 75 

Massacre of Glencoe, 75 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 75 

Child of Waterloo, 75 

Adventures of Ben Brace, 75 

Life of Jack Ariel, 75 

Forty-five Guardsmen, 1 00 

Wallace, the Hero of Scotland, 1 00 

Following the Drum, 60 

The Conscript, a Tale of War. 

By Alexander Dumas, 1 5§ 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 17 


HARRY COCK 

Valentine Vox, Ventriloquist,.. 75 

Valentine Vox, cloth, 2 00 

Sylvester Sound, 75 

The Love Match, 75 

GUSTAVE AIM 

The Prairie Flower, 75 

The Indian Scout, 75 

The Trail Hunter, 75 

The Indian Chief, 75 

The Red Track, 75 

The White Scalper, 50 

The Freebooters, 50 

HENRY MOREORD’S 

Shoulder-Straps, $1 50 

The Coward, 1 60 

Above are each in paper cover, or 

LIVES OE NOTED I 

Life of John A. Murrel, 50 

Life of Joseph T. Hare, 50 

Life of Col. Monroe Edwards, . 50 

Life of Jack Sheppard, 50 

Life of Jack Rann, 50 

Life of Dick Turpin, 50 

Life of Helen Jewett, 50 

Desperadoes of the Now World, 50 

Mysteries of New Orleans, 50 

The Robber’s Wife, 50 

Obi; or, Three Fingered Jack, 50 

Kit Clayton, 50 

Life of Tom Waters, 50 

Nat Blake, 50 

Bill Horton, 50 

Galloping Gus, 5o 

Life & Trial of Antoine Probst, 50 

Ned Hastings, 50 

Eveleen Wilson, 50 

Diary of a Pawnbroker, 50 

Silver and Pewter, 50 

Sweeney Todd, 50 

Life of Grace O’Malley, 50 


CON’S WORKS. 

The Fatal Marriage,...., 75 

The Steward, 75 

Percy Effingham, 75 

The Prince, 75 

IRD’S WORKS. 

Trapper’s Daughter, 75 

The Tiger Slayer, 75 

The Gold Seekers, 75 

The Rebel Chief, 75 

The Border Rifles, 75 

Pirates of the Prairies, 75 

AMERICAN NOVELS. 

The Days of Shoddy. A His- 
tory of the late War, $1 50 

jach one is in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

IGHWAYMEN, ETC. 

Life of Davy Crockett, 50 

Life of Sybil Grey, 50 

Life of Jonathan Wild, 25 

Life of Henry Thomas, 25 

Life of Arthur Spring 25 

Life of Jack Ketch, 25 

Life of Ninon De L’Enclos, 25 

Lives of the Felons, 25 

Life of Mrs. Whipple, 25 

Life of Biddy Woodhull, 25 

Life of Mother Brownrigg, 25 

Dick Parker, the Pirate, 25 

Life of Mary Bateman, 25 

Life of Captain Blood 25 

Capt. Blood and the Beagles,.. 2* 
Sixteen-Stringed Jack’s Fight 

for Life, 2? 

Highwayman’s Avenger, 2i 

Life of Raoul De Surville, 25 

Life of Rody the Plover 25 

Life of Galloping Dick, 25 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 75 

Life and Adventures ofVidocq, 1 50 


LIEBIG’S WORKS ON CHEMISTRY. 


Agricultural Chemistry, 25 I Liebig’s celebrated Letters on 

Animal Chemistry, 25 I the Potato Disease, 25 

Liebig’s Complete Works on Chemistry, is also issued in one largo 
oetavo volume, bound in cloth. Price Two Dollars. 

MILITARY AND ARMY BOOKS. 


Ellsworth’s Zouave Drill, 25 

U. S. Government Infantry A 
Rifle Tactics, 25 


U. S. Light Infantry Drill, 25 

Tho Soldier’s Companion, 25 

The Soldier’s Guide, 25 


1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


18 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS AT 75 CENTS. BY BEST AUTHORS. 

The Brigand; or, the Demon of the North. By Victor Hugo, 75 

Cyrilla; or, The Mysterious Engagement. By the author of ‘‘The 

Initials.” Cloth, $1.75; or bound in paper corer, for 75 

The Peed Indians of Newfoundland. Illustrated, 75 

Webster and Hayne’s Speeches in Reply to Colonel Foote, 75 

Roanoke; or, Where is Utopia? By C. H. Wiley. Illustrated, 75 

75 


The Banditti of the Prairie,... 

Tom Racquet, 75 

Salathiel, by Croly, 75 

Corinne; or, Italy, 75 

Ned Musgrave 75 

Aristocracy, 75 

Popping the Question, 75 

Paul Periwinkle, 75 

The Inquisition in Spain, 75 

‘Elsie’s Married Life, 75 

Leyton Hall. By Mark Lemon, 75 


Flirtations in America 75 

The Coquette, 75 

Thackeray’s Irish Sketch Book, 75 

Whitehall, 75 

The Beautiful Nun, 75 

Mysteries of Three Cities, 75 

Gencvra. By Miss Fairfield,.. 75 

Crock of Gold. By Tupper,... 75 

Twins and Heart. By Tupper, 75 

New Hope; or, the Rescue, 75 

Nothing to Say, 75 

Hans Breitmann’s Party. With other Ballads. By Charles G. Leland, 75 

Hans Breitmann In Church, with other Ballads. By C. G. Leland, 75 

Hans Breitmann about Town, with other Ballads. By C. G. Leland, 75 

Hans Breitmann as an Uhlan, and other New Ballads, 75 

Hans Breitmann In Europe with other New Ballads,., 76 


WORKS AT 50 CENTS. 


Love at First Sight 50 

Leah ; or the Forsaken, 50 

The Greatest Plague of Life,.. 50 

Clifford and the Actress, 50 

The Two Lovers, 50 

The Orphans and Caleb Field,. 50 

Moreton Hall, 50 

Bell Brandon, 50 

Sybil Grey, 50 

Female Life in New York, 50 

Agnes Grey. 50 

Diary of a Physician, 50 

The Emigrant Squire, 50 

The Monk, by Lewis 50 

The Beautiful French Girl,... 50 

Father Clement, paper, 50 

do. do. cloth, 75 

Miser’s Heir, paper, 50 

do. do. cloth, 75 


The Woman in Red. A Companion I 
Twelve Months of Matrimony. By I 
Robert Oaklands ; or, the Outcast Oi 
Father Tom and the Pope, in cloth 


BY BEST AUTHORS. 


Kate Kennedy, 50 

The Admiral’s Daughter, 50 

The American Joe Miller, 50 

Ella Stratford 50 

Josephine, by Grace Aguilar,., 50 

The Fortune Hunter, 50 

The Orphan Sisters, 50 

Abednego, the Money Lender,. 50 

Miriam Abroy, by D’lsraeli ... 50 

Jenny Ambrose, 50 

Train’s Union Speeches, 50 

The Romish Confessional 50 

Victims of Amusements, 50 

Ladies’ Work Table Book, 50 

Life of Antoine Probst, 50 

Alieford, a Family History,.. . 50 

General Scott’s $5 Portrait,... l 00 

Henry Clay’s $5 Portrait x 00 

Portrait of Schuyler Colfax,.. 50 

o the “Woman in Black,” 60 

Imelie F. Carlen, 50 

'phan, 50 

gilt, 75 cents, or paper, 50 


REV. CHARLES WADSWORTH’S SERMONS. 

America’s Mission, 25 I A Thanksgiving Sermon, 

Thankfulness and Character,.. 25 I Politics in Religion, 

Henry Ward Beecher on War and Emancipation, 

Rev. William T. Brantley’s Union Sermon,,... 


15 

12 

15 

15 


I^T Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. 3. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 19 


WORKS AT 25 CENTS 


Aunt Margaret’s Trouble, 25 

The Grey Woman, 25 

The Deformed, 25 

Two Prima Donnas, 25 

The Mysterious Marriage, 25 

Jack Downing’s Letters, 25 

The Mysteries of a Convent,... 25 

Rose Warrington, 25 

The Iron Cross, 25 

Charles Ransford, 25 

The Mysteries of Bedlam, 25 

Madison’s Exposition of Odd Felloi 
The Iniquities and Barbarities Pract 


Comio Life of Billy Vidkins, With 32 


BY BEST AUTHORS. 


The Nobleman’s Daughter,... 25 

Ghost Stories. Illustrated,.... 25 

Ladies’ Science of Etiquette,... 25 

The Abbey of Innismoyle, 25 

Gliddon’s Ancient Egypt, 25 

Philip in Search of a Wife, 25 

Rifle Shots, 25 

Rody the Rover, 25 

The Sower’s Reward, 25 

The Courtier, 25 

G. F. Train and the Fenians, .. 25 

r ship. Illustrated, 25 

ced at Rome, 25 

Illustrations, 25 


THE SHAKSPEARE HOVELS. 

Shakspeare and his Friends, ...$1 00 I The Secret Passion, $1 00 

The Youth of Shakspeare, 1 00 I 

Above three Books are also in one volume, cloth. Price Four Dollars. 


WAVERLEY NOVELS. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. 


Ivanhoe, 25 

Rob Roy, 25 

Guy Mannering, 25 

The Antiquary 25 

Old Mortality 25 

Heart of Mid Lothian, 25 

Bride of Lammermoor, 25 

Waverley, 25 

St. Ronan’s Well, 25 

Kenilworth, 25 

The Pirate, 25 

The Monastery, 25 

The Abbot, 25 

The Fortunes of Nigel, 25 


The Betrothed, 25 

Peveril of the Peak, 25 

Quentin Durward, 25 

Red Gauntlet, 25 

The Talisman, 25 

Woodstock, 25 

Highland Widow, etc., 25 

The Fair Maid of Perth, 25 

Anne of Geierstein, 25 

Count Robert of Paris, 25 

The Black Dwarf and Legend 

of Montrose, 25 

Castle Dangerous, and Sur- 
geon’s Daughter, 25 


Above edition is the cheapest in the world, and is complete in twenty-six 
volumes, price 25 cents each, or Five Dollars for the complete set. 

A finer edition is also published of each of the above, complete in twen- 
ty-six volumes, price Fifty cents each, or Ten Dollars for the complete set. 


Moredun. A Tale of 1210, 50 I Scott’s Poetical Works, 5 00 

Tales of a Grandfather, 25 I Life of Scott,. cloth, 2 50 

“NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

This edition of the Waverley Novels is contained in five large octavo vol- 
umes, with a portrait of Sir Walter Scott, making four thousand very large 
double columned pages, in good type, and handsomely printed on the finest 
of white paper, and bound in the strongest and most substantial manner. 


Price of a set, in Black cloth, in five volumes, $15 00 

“ ** Full sheep, Library style, 17 50 

" “ Half calf, antique, or Half calf, gilt, 25 00 

The Complete Prose and Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, are also 
published in ten volumes, bound in half calf, for $60 00 


SIR E. L. BULWER’S HOVELS. 

The Roue, 50 I The Courtier, 25 

The Oxonians, 50 I Falkland, 25 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
byT. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa, 


23 VOLUMES, AT $1.75 EACH; OR $40.25 A SET. 


T. B . PETERSON & BROTHERS , No. 306 Chestnut Street, 
Philadelphia, Pa., have just published an entire new, complete, and 
uniform edition of all the works written by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, 
the popular American Authoress. This edition is in duodecimo form, 
is 2 >rinted on the finest of while paper, and is complete in twenty- 
three volumes, and each volume is bound in the very best manner, in 
morocco cloth, with a full gilt back, and is sold at the low price of $1.75 
each, or $40.25 for a full and complete set. Every family and every 
Library in this country, should have in it a complete set of this new 
and beautiful edition of the works of Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. The fol- 
lowing are the names of the volumes: 

NORSTON’S REST. 

BERTHA’S ENGAGEMENT. 

BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE; or, Bought with a Price. 

LORD HOPE’S CHOICE; or, More Secrets Than One. 
THE OLD COUNTESS, Sequel to “ Lord Hope’s Choice.” 

THE REIGNING BELLE. 

PALACES AND PRISONS; or, The Prisoner of the Bastile. 

A NOBLE WOMAN ; or, A Gulf Between Them. 

THE CURSE OF GOLD ; or, The Bound Girl and Wife’s Trials. 

MABEL’S MISTAKE; or, The Lost Jewels. 

WIVES AND WIDOWS; or, The Broken Life. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD; or, Pet From the Poor House. 
THE REJECTED W IFE ; or, The Ruling Passion. 

THE WIFE’S SECRET; or, Gillian. 

THE HEIRESS; or, The Gipsy’s Legacy. 

THE SOLDIER’S ORPHANS. 

SILENT STRUGGLES; or, Barbara Stafford. 

RUBY GRAY’S STRATEGY; or, Married by Mistake. 

FASHION AND FAMINE. 

MARRIED IN HASTE. 

DOUBLY FALSE; or, Alike and Not Alike. 

THE GOLD BRICK. 

MARY DERWENT. 

fiMT' Above books are for sole by all Booksellers at $1.75 each, or 
$40.25 for a complete set of the twenty-three volumes. Copies of either 
one or more of the above books, or a complete set of them, will be sent at 
once to any one, to any place, postage prepaid, or free of freight, on 
remitting their price in a letter to the Publishers, 

T. 1?. PETERS, & BROTHERS, 

COG Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Mrs. Cm® Lie Hires Worn 


12 VOLUMES, AT $1.75 EACH ; OR $21.00 A SET. 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, No. 306 Chestnut Street, 
Philadelphia , have just published an entire new , complete , and uniform 
edition of all the celebrated Novels written by the popular American 
Novelist , Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, in twelve large duodecimo volumes. 
They are printed on the finest paper , and bound in the most beautiful 
style , in Green Morocco cloth, with a new, full gilt bach, and sold at 
the low price of $1.75 each, or $21.00 for a full and complete set. 
Every Family and every Library in this country, should have in it a 
complete set of this new and beautiful edition of the works of Mrs. 
Caroline Lee Hentz. The following is a complete list of 

MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 

LINDA ; OR, THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. With 
a complete Biography of Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

ROBERT GRAHAM. A Sequel to “Linda; or, The Young Pilot 
of the Belle Creole.” 

RENA; or, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. 

MARCUS WARLAND ; or, The Long Moss Spring. 

ERNEST LINWOOD ; or, The Inner Life of the Author. 

EOLINE; or, MAGNOLIA VALE; or, The Heiress of Gloumore. 
THE PLANTER’S NORTHERN BRIDE; or, Scenes in Mrs. Hentz’* 
Childhood. 

HELEN AND ARTHUR ; or, Miss Thusa’s Spinning- V/heol. 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; or, The Joys and Sorrows of 
American Life. 

LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories of the Heart. 

THE LOST DAUGHTER; and other Stories of the Heart. 

THE BANISHED SON ; and other Stories of the Heart. 

jtnT' Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers at $1.75 each, cn 
$21.00 for a complete set of the twelve volumes. Copies of either one 
of the above books, or a complete set of them, will be sent at once to 
any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, or free of freight, on remit- 
ting their price in a letter to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSOF & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 




T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, have just published an entire 
new and cheap edition of the following works written by Mrs. Henry 
Wood. Each book is printed from large , clear type , and each work it 
issued in one large volume , and sold at the following low rates : 


THE SHADOW OF ASHLYDYAT Price $1.50 

GEORGE CANTERBURY'S WILL “ 1.50 

THE CHANNINGS “ 1.50 

ROLAND YORKE. Sequel to “ The Channings.”.. . “ 1.50 

SQUIRE TREVLYN’S HEIR; cr, Trevlyn Hold.... “ 1.50 

LORD OAKBURN’S DAUGHTERS; or, Earl’s Heirs. “ 1.50 

THE MASTER OF GREYLANDS “ 1.50 

THE CASTLE’S HEIR; or, Lady Adelaide’s Oath.. “ 1.50 

WITHIN THE MAZE “ 1.50 

VERNER’S PRIDE “ 1.50 

DENE HOLLOW “ 1.50 

BESSY RANE “ 1.50 

ELSTER’S FOLLY “ 1.50 

SAINT MARTIN’S EVE “ 1.50 

OSWALD CRAY “ 1.50 

THE RED COURT FARM 44 1.50 

MILDRED ARKELL “ 1.50 


The above are in paper cover , at $1.50 each, or in cloth, at $1.75 each. 


PARKWATER; or, Told in the Twilight Price 75 Cents. 

THE MYSTERY “ 75 “ 

THE LOST BANK NOTE “ 50 “ 

A LIFE’S SECRET *• 50 “ 

THE HAUNTED TOWER “ 50 “ 

ORVILLE COLLEGE “ 50 44 

THE LOST WILL “ 50 41 

MY HUSBAND’S FIRST LOVE “ 25 41 

MARRYING BENEATH YOUR STATION 44 25 “ 

THE RUNAWAY MATCH “ 25 44 

CYRILLA MAUDE’S FIRST LOVE 44 25 44 

MY COUSIN CAROLINE’S WEDDING 44 25 44 

THE SELF-CONVICTED 44 25 44 

FIVE THOUSAND A YEAR 44 25 44 

THE DIAMOND BRACELET 44 25 44 

CLARA LAKE’S DREAM 44 25 44 

THE NOBLEMAN’S WIFE 44 25 44 

MARTYN WARE’S TEMPTATION 44 25 44 

THE SMUGGLER’S GHOST 44 25 44 

FRANCES HILDYARD 44 25 44 

A LIGHT AND A DARK CHRISTMAS 44 25 44 

WILLIAM ALLAIR; or, Running Away to Sea .. . 44 25 44 

THE FOGGY NIGHT AT OFFORD 44 25 44 


Above books are each in one large octavo volume, paper cover. 

The above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents. 
Copies of any one or more of the above books, will be sent to any 
one, to any place, per mail, post-paid, on remitting price to 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Chaim Dicker Complete Works. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 306 Chestnut Street, Philadel- 
phia, Pa., have just published an entire new, cheap, and complete 
edition of all of the writings, large or small, of Charles Dickens. Each 
book is printed from large, clear type, and each work is issued in a large 
octavo volume, with a New Illustrated Cover. This edition is called 

“PETERSONS’ CHEAP EDITION FOP. THE MILLION,” 

And it it the, ONLY EDITION of the COMPLETE WRITINGS 
of CHARLES DICKENS ever printed. The follo wing volumes com- 
prise the whole series, and they are sold at the following low rates: 


A TALE OF TWO CITIES Price 25 Cents, 

OLIVER TWIST “ 50 “ 

DAVID COPPERFIELD “ 50 “ 

AMERICAN NOTES “ 25 “ 

HARD TIMES “ 25 “ 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS “ 50 “ 

PICKWICK PAPERS “ 50 “ 

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY “ 50 “ 

SKETCHES BY “ BOZ.” “ 50 “ 

OLD CURIOSITY SHOP “ 50 “ 

BARNABY RUDGE “ 50 “ 

CHRISTMAS STORIES ; and Pictures from Italy. “ 50 

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT “ 50 “ 

DOMBEY AND SON “ 50 “ 

OUR MUTUAL FRIEND “ 50 “ 

BLEAK HOUSE “ 50 “ 

LITTLE DORRIT “ 50 “ 

NO THOROUGHFARE “ 25 “ 

HUNTED DOWN; and other Reprinted Pieces. “ 50 “ 

THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER “ 25 “ 

THE HOLLY-TREE INN; and Other Stories... “ 25 “ 

SOMEBODY’S LUGGAGE “ 25 14 

THE HAUNTED HOUSE “ 25 “ 

MESSAGE FROM THE SEA “ 25 “ 

A HOUSE TO LET “ 25 “ 

THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN MARY “ 25 “ 

DICKENS’ NEW STORIES “ 25 “ 

THE PERILS OF ENGLISH PRISONERS “ 25 “ 

TOM TIDDLER’S GROUND “ 25 “ 

MRS. LIRRIPER’S LODGINGS “ 25 “ 

DOCTOR MARIGOLD’S PRESCRIPTIONS “ 25 “ 

MRS. LIRRIPER’S LEGACY “ 25 “ 

MUGBY JUNCTION “ 25 “ 

THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD “ 25 “ 

THE LIFE OF JOSEPH GRIMALDI “ 50 “ 

THE PIC-NIC PAPERS “ 50 “ 


LAZY TOUR OF TWO IDLE APPRENTICES... “ 25 “ 

jpiS *- Copies of any one, or more, or all of the above books, will be sent 
to any one, to any place, per mail, post-paid, on receipt of price of the 
ones wanted, by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia. 

7%*^ For sale by all Booksellers. Ask for “ Petersons ’ Edition ” and 
take no other. Address all orders and remittances , to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & J3ROTHERS, 

S06 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa 


GEORGE LEPPARD’S WORKS. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, No. 306 Chestnut Street , 
Philadelphia, have just published an entire new, complete, and 
uniform edition of all the celebrated works written by the popular 
American Historian and Novelist, George Lippard. Every Family 
and every Library in this country, should have in it a set of this 
new edition of his works. The following is a complete 

LIST OF GEORGE LIPPARD’S WORKS. 

THE LEGENDS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, 
1776 ; or, WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS. By George 
Lippard. With a steel Engraving of the “ Battle of Germantown,” at “ Chew’s 
House.” Complete in one large octavo volume, price $1.50 in paper cover, or 
bound in morocco cloth, price $2.00. 

THE QUAKER CITY; or, TEE MONKS OF MONK 
HALL. A Romance of Philadelphia Life, Mystery, and Crime. 

By George Lippard. With his Portrait ancl Autograph. Complete in one large 
octavo volume, price $1.50 in paper cover, or bound in morocco cloth, i : -e $2.00. 

PAUL ARDENHEIM, THE MONK OF WICSAHIKON. 
A Romance of the American Revolution, 1776. By George Lip- 
pard. Illustrated. Complete in one large octavo volume, price $1.50 in paper cover, 
or bound in morocco cloth, price $2.00. 

BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE ; or, SEPTEMBER THE 
ELEVENTH, 1777. By George Lippard. A Komance of the Revolution, 
as well as of the Poetry, Legends, and History of the Battle of Brandywine. Com- 
plete in one large octavo volume, price $1.50 in paper cover, or bound in morocco 
cloth, price $2.00. 

THE MYSTERIES OF FLORENCE; or, THE CRIML3 
AND MYSTERIES OF THE HOUSE OF ALBARONE. 

By George Lippard. Complete in one large octavo volume, price $1.00 in paper 
cover, or $2.00 in cloth. 

WASHINGTON AND HIS MEN. Being the Second Se- 
ries of the Legends of the American Revolution, 1776. By 
George Lippard. With Illustrations. Complete in one large octato volume, paper 
cover, price 75 cents. 

THE MEMOIRS OF A PREACHER; or, THE MYS- 
TERIES OF THE PULPIT. By George Lippard. With illustrations. 
Complete in one large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. 

THE EMPIRE CITY; or, NEW YORK BY NIGHT 
AND DAY. Its Aristocracy and its Dollars. By George Lippard. Complete 
in one large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. 

THE NAZARENE; or, THE LAST OF THE WASH- 
INGTONS. By George Lippard. A Revelation of Philadelphia, New York, 
and Washington. Complete in one large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. 

THE ENTRANCED ; or, THE WANDERER OF EIGH- 
TEEN CENTURIES, containing also, Jesus and the Poor, the Heart 
Broken, etc. By George Lippard. Complete in one large octavo volume, paper 
cover, price 50 cents. 

THE LEGENDS OF MEXICO. By George Lippard. Comprising 
Legends and Historical Pictures of the Camp in the Wilderness; The Sisters of 
Monterey; The Dead Woman of Palo Alto, etc. Complete in one large octavo 
Volume, paper cover, price 50 cents. 

THE BANK DIRECTOR’S SON. A Revelation of Life in a Great 
City. By George Lippard. One large octavo volume, paper cover, price 25 cents. 


Above Books are for safe by all Booksellers, or copies of either 
one or more of the above books, or a complete set of them, mill be 
sent at once, to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, or free of 
freight , on remitting price of ones wanted, in a letter to the Publisher s, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

300 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


BY AUTHOR OF “THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE.” 


■*o 


Mas. G. A. lira's New Works. 


IN 9 VOLUMES, AT $1.75 EACH; OR $15.75 A SET. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 306 Chestnut Street, 
Philadelphia , Pa., have just published a complete and uniform edition 
of all the new and celebrated works written by Mrs. Catharine A. 
Warfield, the well-known and popular American writer. This edition 
is in duodecimo form, is printed on the finest of white paper, is complete 
in nine volumes, and each volume is bound in the very best manner, 
in morocco cloth, with a full gilt back, and is sold at the low price of 
$1.75 a volume, or $15.75 for a full and complete set. Every Family, 
and every Library in this Country , should have in it a set of this beauti- 
ful edition of the complete works of this talented and gifted American 
Authoress, Mrs. Catharine A. Warfield. The following is a list of 

.MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S NEW WORKS. 

THE CARDINAL’S DAUGHTER. 

FERNE FLEMING. 

MIRIAM’S MEMOIRS. 

LADY ERNESTINE; or, THE ABSENT LORD OF R0CHEF0RTE. 
MONFORT HALL. 

SEA AND SHORE. 

THE HOUSEHOLD OF BOUVERIE. 

A DOUBLE WEDDING; or, HOW SHE WAS WON. 

HESTER HOWARD’S TEMPTATION. 


Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers, and by the Pub- 
lishers, at $1.75 each, or $15.7 5 for a complete set of the nine volumes. 

Copies of either one or more of the above books, or a complete set 
of them , will be sent at once to any one , to any place, postage prepaid, 
or free of freight, on remitting their price in a letter to the Publishers, 

T. B. TETEIISON & BROTHERS, 

305 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


PETERSONS’ "DOLLAR SERIES” 

OF GOOD AID IEW NOVELS 

ARB THE BEST, THE LARGEST, THE HANDSOMEST, 
AND THE CHEAPEST BOOKS IN THE WORLD. 


Price ONE DOLLAR Each , in Morocco Cloth, Slack and Gold, 


** PETERSONS’ DOLLAR SERIES” OP GOOD AND NEW 
N OVEXj S.” Something entirely new in literature is a series of choice works of fiction 
now publishing by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa., under the title of 
“ Petersons’ Dollar Series of Good and New Novels,” which are the 
largest, the best, the handsomest, as well as the cheapest books ever published. They are 
all issued in uniform style, in duodecimo form, and are bound in red, tan or blue vellum, 
with gold and black sides and back, and are sold at the low price of One Dollar each, while 
they are as large and as handsome as any books published at $1.75 or $2.00 each. The 
following popular books have already been issued iu the “Dollar Series,” and a 
new one will be added to the series every month. 

A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. By Miss Mulock. 
TWO WAYS TO MATEIMONY. A Book for Ladies and Gentlemen. 
MY SON’S WIFE. By the Author of “Caste.” 

SAEATOGA ! AND THE FAMOUS SPEINGS. A Love Story. 
OOUNTEY QUAETEES. By the Countess of Blessington. 

LOYE AND DUTY. A Love Story. By Mrs. Hubback. 

THE HEIEESS IN THE FAMILY. By Mrs. Daniels. 
FLIETATIONS IN FASHIONABLE LIFE. By Catharine Sinclair. 
SELF-LOYE. A Book for Young Ladies and for Women. 

THE DEYOTED BEIDE. By St. George Tucker, of Virginia. 

THE MAN OF THE WOELD. By William North. 

THE QUEEN’S FAYOEITE; or, The Price of a Crown. 

THE OAYALIEE. A Novel. By G. P. E. James, with his Portrait. 
OUT OF THE DEPTHS. The Story of a Woman’s Life. 

COLLEY CIBBEE’S LIFE OF EDWIN FOEEEST, with his Portrait. 
HAEEM LIFE IN EGYPT AND CONSTANTINOPLE. 

WOMAN’S WEONG. A Book for Women. By Mrs. Eiloart. 

THE COQUETTE ; or, The Life and Letters of Eliza Wharton. 

THE OLD PATEOON ; or, The Great Yan Broek Property. 

THE EECTOE’S WIFE ; or, The Valley of a Hundred Fires. 

THE PEIDE OF LIFE. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

prr* “Petersons’ Dollar Series ” will be found for sale by all Booksellers , 
or copies of any one or all of them, will be sent, post-paid, to any one , to any 
place, on remitting the price of the ones wanted, to the Publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

300 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 


PETERSONS’ 


’STERLING SKIES' OF HEW 4 GOOD ROOKS. 

THEY ARE THE CHEAPEST NOVELS IN THE WORLD. 

Price $1.00 each in morocco cloth) or 75 cents each in paper cover. 

ff Ui.JBW - ... . 

“PETERSONS' STERLING SERIES ” OF NEW AND GOOD BOOKS, 
are each issued in one large octavo volume , all of one size, and in uniform style, and 
are meeting with great success, as the series contain some of the best and most popular 
novels ever issued. The volumes are handy to hold, and are bound in handsome 
Morocco cloth, with new designs, in gold and black, on side and back, and each book 
is sold at the uniform and remarkably low price of One Dollar a copy in this style, 
or in paper covers, with the edges cut open all round, at Seventy-five cents a copy. 
Here is cheapness and a great deal of good reading matter combined, which is what all 
persons want these times, for each volume issued in “Petersons’ Sterling Series '* 
contains as much reading matter as is usually issued in a $1.50, $1.75, or $2.00 volume . 

PETERSONS’ ‘STERLING SERIES’ OP GOOD NOVELS JUST READ!. 

They are the Cheapest Novels in the World . 

Price $1.00 each in morocco cloth; or 75 ceute each in paper cover. 

The following works have already been issued in this series, and a new one will fol- 
low every two weeks in the same style, same size, and at the same low price, making 
this seines of novels the cheapest ever published. The following are their* names: 

CHARLES O’MALLEY, The Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
CYRILLA. A Love Story. By author of “ The Initials.” 

THE FLIRT. By Mrs. Grey, author of “ The Gambler’s Wife.” 

EDINA. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 

HARRY LORREQUER. With His Confessions. By Charles Lever. 
AURORA FLOYB. A Love Story. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 

CORIKNE ; or, ITALY. By Madame De Stael. 

POPPING THE QUESTION. By author of “ The Jilt.” 

FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. By George Sand. 

THE COQUETTE. A Charming Love Story. By author of “ Misserimus.” 
THE MYSTERY. A Love Story. By Mra. Henry Wood. 

THE MAN WITH FIVE WIVES. By Alexander Dumas. 

THE JEALOUS WIFE. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

THACKERAY’S IRISH SKETCH BOOK. Illustrated. 

THE WIFE’S TRIALS. A Love Story. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 
PICKWICK ABROAD. Illustrated. By George W. M. Reynolds. 

THE DEAD SECRET. By Wilkie Collins. 

CONFESSIONS OF A PRETTY WOMAN. By Miss Pardoe. 
SYLVESTER SOUND. By author of “ Valentine Vox.” 

BASIL; or. The Crossed Path. By Wilkie Collins 
THE RIVAL BEAUTIES. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

THE STEWARD. By author of “ Valentine Vox.” 

MARRYING FOR MONEY. By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniels. 

THE LOVE MATCH. A Love Story. By Henry Cockton 
FLIRTATIONS IN AMERICA; or, High Life in New York. 
WHITEFRIARS ; or. The Days of Charles the Second. 

HIDE AND SEEK. A Novel. By Wilkie Collins. 

>$5r* The above books are 75 cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 each in cloth. 

JSUr Above books are for sale by all Booksellers, or copies of any one, or more, or 
all of them, will be sent, post-paid, to any one, to any place, on remitting their price .« 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers, 

30G Chestnut Street, Philadelphia , Pa, 


By Author of “Theo,” & “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s.” 



BY MBS. FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 


The following Books are all printed on tinted paper , and are issued 
in uniform, style , in square 12 mo. form. Brice Fifty Cents each in Paper 
Cover , or One Dollar each in Morocco Cloth , Black and Gold. They 
are nine of the best and most saleable Novels ever published . 


KATHLEEN. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Bumett y 
author of “ Theo/’ “ That Lass o’ Lowries,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” 
etc. This is the most charming and perfect of all love stories. “ Theo” 
was good, but “ Kathleen,” who was a natural beauty, is better. 

“ THEO.” A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , author 
of “ Kathleen,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton.” “ That Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” etc. 
One of the best, purest, and most charming love stories issued for years. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances 
Hodgson Burnett , author of “ Theo,” “ Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” “ Kathleen,” etc. 

TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY; or, FALSE PRIDE. A book for 
Ladies and for Gentlemen ; as well as for Mothers, for Fathers, and for 
all those contemplating Matrimony, or those in Wedlock. 

THAT GIRL OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of “ That Lover 
of Mine.” It is one of the most brilliant society novels ever issued, being 
a true story of Mabel’s flirtations in a winter passed in Washington city. 

THE RED HILL TRAGEDY. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth , author of 
the “Phantom Wedding,” “Ishmael,” “ Self- Raised,” “ Mother-in-Law.” 

THAT LOVER OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of u That 
Girl of Mine.” “That Lover of Mine” will be found superior in 
brilliancy and interest even to its popular predecessor. The character of 
the heroine is drawn from real life, with all those delicate shades and 
sudden flashes of light w hich distinguish the girl of our times. 

BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS. A Charming Love Story, of the purest and 
best kind. Written by a Noted Author. Bessie, the heroine, is perfect. 

THE AMOURS OF PHILLIPPE. A History of “ Phillippe’s Love 
Affairs.” By Octave Feuillet. Translated from the French, complete 
and unabridged, by Mrs. Mary Neal Sherwood. 

Above Books are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 each in cloth. 


IgiF The above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents 
everywhere, or copies of any one or all of them will be sent to any one , to 
any place , at once , post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON" & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 


“Combines more attractions than any othor .” — Beaver ( Pa .) Timet. 


CHEAPEST AND BEST!«®gT 


PETERSON’S MAGAZINE 

or ART, LITERATURE AND FASHION. 


FULL-SIZE PAPER PATTERNS! 


4®“ A Supplement will be given in every number for 1878, containing a full-size 
paper pattern for a lady's, or child's dress. Every subscriber will receive , during the 
year , twelve of these patterns, so that these alone will be worth more than the subscript 
tion price . C= @§1 


“PETERSON’S MAGAZINE ” has the best Original Stories of any of the lady’s 
books, the best Colored Fashion Plates, the best Berlin Patterns, the best Receipts. 
Its principal illustrations are not cheap wood-cuts, as with others, but 




SICEL 






Every family ought to take it. It gives more for the money than any in the world. 
It has long been celebrated for its 

THRILLING TALES AND NOVELETTES 

It will contain, in 1878, Five Original Copyright Novelettes, by Mrs. Ann S. 
Stephens, Frank Lee Benedict, Mrs. F. llodgsou Burnett, as well as others of the best 
authors of America. Also, nearly a hundred shorter stories, all original. Its superb 

Mammoth Colored Fashion Plates 

Are ahead of all others. These plates are engraved on steel, twice the usual size, 
and are the very Latest Paris Styles. 

N.B . — As the publisher now pre-pays the postage to all mail subscribers , “ Peterson" 
iS CHEAPER THAN EVER J in fact IS THE CHEAPEST IN THE WORLD. 


TERMS (Always in Advance) $2.00 A YEAR. 


2 Copies for $3.60 

& “ “ 4.80 

4 Copies for $6.80 

5 “ “ 8.00 

6 Copies for $9.60 

8 « « 12.00 

11 «« « 16.00 


( With a copy of the premium picture (24 x 20) 
< “The Angels of Christmas,” a five dollar engraving, 
t to the person getting up the Club, 
f With an extra copy of the Magazine for 1878, as 
| a premium, to the person getting up the Club. 
f With both an extra copy of the Magazine for 1S78, 
-) and the premium picture, a five dollar engraving, 
t to the person getting up the Club. 


Address, post-paid, 

CHARLES J. PETERSON, 

808 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 


4®* Specimens sent gratis if written for. 


MRS. EMMA E E. I SOUTHW ORTH’S WORKS. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS \ Philadelphia, have just pub- 
lished an entire new , complete and uniform edition of all of the cele- 
brated works written by Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. This edition 
is in duodecimo form, is printed on the finest white paper, is complete 
in forty-three volumes, and each volume is bound in morocco cloth, with 
a full gilt back, and is sold at the low price of $ 1.75 a volume, or $ 75.25 
for a full and complete set. Every Family, and every Library in this 
Country should have in it a complete set of this new edition of the 
works of Mrs. Southworth. The following are the names of the volumes : 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. Sequel to “Ishmael.” 
ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “Self-Made.”) 
THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 
THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 
VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.” 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 
FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. A Sequel to “Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES; or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE S FATE. Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. A Sequel to “Cruel as the Grave.” 
THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 
THE BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to “Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 
THE MAIDEN WIDOW. Sequel to “ Family Doom.” 
THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 
THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES ; or, SHANNQNDALE. 
ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDOP.A. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. 

VIVIA ; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER ; or, The Children of the Isle. 
THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS ; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. 

THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

THE DESERTED WIFE. THE WIFE’S VICTORY. 

THE LOST HEIRESS. THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. LOVE’S LABOR WON. 

TH£ SPECTRE LOVER. CURSE OF CLIFTON. 

' m WtiE FATAL SECRET. RETRIBUTION. 

Above books are for sale by all Booksellers, or copies will be sent 
to any one , at once, post-paid , on remitting price of ones wanted to 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers , 

SOG Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


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